


Borders

by gamerfic



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Kissing, Mentions of Infertility, Multi, Politics, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Canon, References to Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening, Romance, Slow Burn, Threesome - F/F/M, past Anora/Cauthrien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4766255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamerfic/pseuds/gamerfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the sake of Ferelden, Elissa Cousland crowned her lover Alistair as king, knowing all along that she would lose him. For the sake of his honor, Alistair made the most of his new role and his arranged marriage to Anora Mac Tir - and eventually, what began as a necessary political alliance blossomed into real love. But despite the passage of time and the demands of duty, Alistair and Elissa never forgot their feelings for each other. Four years after the end of the Fifth Blight, a border dispute between Ferelden and Orzammar brings Alistair, Anora, and Elissa together again in an isolated fortress filled with danger and intrigue. Much that has been hidden is about to be revealed - especially the many things left unsaid between the three of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lemonsharks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsharks/gifts).



> Please note that chapter 6 of this story contains one very minor instance of infidelity/non-negotiated polyamory (a character kisses another without their spouse's permission).

As King Alistair Theirin undressed for bed on the night of his wedding to Anora Mac Tir, his thoughts were consumed by the face and voice and body of a woman who was not his wife. Selfishly, he had wanted to invite Elissa Cousland to the ceremony, if only to see her one more time. Not so long ago, he would never have been able to imagine walking into a chantry to take marriage vows without her by his side. But he had stopped short of scrawling her name at the bottom of the guest list, realizing how cruel it would be to remind her of what they had both given up. Besides, she would have to be found first in order for a messenger to deliver the invitation to her, and no one knew where she had gone after the Archdemon fell. It was probably for the best if her whereabouts remained as another terrible and necessary Grey Warden secret, not unlike the secret of how both he and Elissa had survived killing the Archdemon in the first place.

He stepped out of the closet in which he had been waiting - no, he was definitely not _hiding_ there, how absurd to think that the king of Ferelden would hide from his own wife in a closet! Anora was sitting on the edge of the massive, canopied bed with the royal seal - _his_ royal seal - carved into its headboard. She wore a gauzy white nightdress that left nothing about her curves to the imagination. Some servant or another had artfully positioned the room's many candles so that their warm glow perfectly flattered her features. He couldn't help thinking, _I wonder if she wore the same thing on the night she married my brother_ , and bit back a nervous, hysterical laugh. He knew he was utterly failing to conceal his inner turmoil, because she looked up at him with concern and said, "Alistair? Are you well?"

"No," he said, "no, I'm really not." It would have been more kingly to come up with some glib and flattering evasion, then embrace his new bride and take her in a commanding and manly fashion, but Alistair wasn't sure he wanted any of those things and it didn't seem right to start his marriage off with a lie.

Anora patted the bedcovers next to her. "Sit with me," she said, and he complied, grateful as ever to have orders to follow. She took his hand in both of hers. "We don't need to do this tonight if you don't want to, you know. We wouldn't be the first couple in Ferelden to spend their wedding night in separate bedchambers."

He paused to consider it. Anora knew as well as he did that under Fereldan law, a marriage was not valid until it was consummated. No one would be so barbaric as to demand proof of how they spent this night - but he would know, and his honor would know, and he had already sacrificed too much to deny this kingdom the union that Elissa had believed would save it. "That's a very kind offer," he said, swallowing hard, "but if you're willing, I think I'd rather get this over with."

Alistair knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth how insulting they sounded - but Anora, ever the pragmatist, simply murmured, "I agree." She began to touch him, timidly and tenderly, trailing her fingers slowly along the sensitive skin of his inner arm and down his chest and stomach. He forced himself not to tense up as her hand slid into his smallclothes and wrapped firmly yet gently around him. "Close your eyes," she said, and he obeyed. And then, softer, close enough that her warm breath tickled his ear: "Think of her, if it helps."

And he did, for a while, feeling his body respond to Anora's touch even as his mind remained unsure of what to make of the situation, until he gasped out, "Stop."

She took her hand away immediately. "Is something wrong?"

Alistair shook his head. He wanted to say, _I don't want this to be like it was with Morrigan, an unpleasant task to be endured for the sake of survival,_ but he knew he couldn't tell her that. Instead, he said, "It isn't fair that you should have to do this and not get, um. Pleasure. You know." His cheeks felt like they were on fire, but he continued. "If we're going to do it now, like this, I'd like to, uh, do something for you first. If you'll let me."

Anora stared at him, her expression unreadable, and said, "You are a kind man, Alistair Theirin." He looked away from her and felt his blush deepening. "Yes. I think I would like that."

So he laid her down on the bed's feather pillows and helped her to pull up her nightdress and bent himself to his work, using everything that his time with Elissa had taught him - a gift she hadn't known she was imparting. Anora's preferences were different, her responses new, but Alistair had always been a fast learner. He adjusted his technique as necessary, and eventually she arched her back and moaned and gently pushed him away, whispering, "Thank you."

Alistair was surprised to find that focusing his attentions on Anora had prepared him even more thoroughly than her hand had. He crawled up the bed, held himself above her, and met her gaze again. "Should we-?" She nodded once and opened her legs, and before he could lose his nerve he removed his smallclothes and haltingly entered her. He closed his eyes and thought of Elissa again like Anora had told him to do, finished as quickly as his body would allow. He rolled away to the other side of the bed and tried to empty his mind of all the things that still troubled him. He had done his duty. Perhaps now he could rest.

Behind him he felt Anora get up, heard the rustle of her putting on her dressing gown and slippers. He sat up and covered himself with a convenient throw pillow, then cursed inwardly at how ridiculous that was. "Oh, uh," he stammered, "I can sleep somewhere else if you like."

"No, that's all right. This room was most recently my father's. It was Cailan's before that. If you don't mind, I'd rather sleep in a bed that was only ever mine."

"Oh. Maker. Sorry. So sorry."

"It's all right. You didn't know." She perched on the edge of the bed. "We'll need to do this again, for the sake of producing an heir."

"I know."

"If it's all the same to you, though, now that the marriage has been consummated, I'd rather we took things more slowly. We barely know each other."

"I suppose you're right." As badly as Alistair wanted to get Anora with child as soon as possible so he didn't have to think about it anymore, he could also understand her feelings on the matter. He remembered how Elissa had waited for him, patiently and without complaining, long past the time when she had already made up her mind about what she wanted. It wouldn't be difficult for him to do the same for someone else now, not after everything she had taught him. "I'll let it be your decision, then. When you're ready, when you want to...when you want to start trying, you'll know where to find me. I won't ask you for it before then."

Her face had gone blank and inscrutable again, and it confused him even more when she leaned in and kissed him, fleetingly yet decisively. "Sleep well, my king," she said, so quietly that he thought he might have imagined it. Then she picked up a candle to light her way and slipped out the door and into the hallway. He listened to the fading echo of her footsteps on the flagstones and wondered for neither the first nor the last time just what he had gotten himself into. He put out the overwhelming multitude of lights and lay back down in the bed, which was almost incomprehensibly soft and comfortable. It would be a long time before he fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

But in the months that followed, sleep came easier to Alistair - not because he had found any sort of peace regarding Elissa and Anora and kingship and Morrigan's ritual and everything else, but because at the end of each day he was exhausted. It was different from the physical weariness he had often felt while traveling across Ferelden with Elissa, fighting darkspawn and courting allies as the last of the Grey Wardens. This tiredness was mental, the feeling of his brain having been stuffed to bursting with the names of nobles and the specifics of treaties and the never-ending whirl of courtly gossip, to the extent that he sometimes struggled to make even minor decisions like what to eat for dinner or what clothes to wear the next day. Fortunately, he had servants now to decide all of that for him.

Alistair's unusual upbringing meant that he had never acquired the basic knowledge about Fereldan nobility that Anora took for granted. She was appalled by how little he knew about the political workings of the kingdom he had inherited, and hastily arranged for him to be tutored in history, etiquette, law, and politics. His new duties could not have been more different to the direct, uncomplicated battle against evil to which he had become accustomed. He made nearly constant blunders and laughed each one off in his usual joking manner, which made Anora roll her eyes and mutter, "Oh, do be serious for once." But even if he could have stopped, he didn't think he would have. Humor was the best strategy he knew of to distract himself from how differently his life had turned out from the way he had once imagined it might be.

At first, Alistair was perfectly content to let Anora make all of the important decisions about how Ferelden would be governed in the aftermath of the Fifth Blight. As they sat together in the throne rooms and council chambers and assembly halls of teyrnirs and arlings and bannorns, he echoed whatever she said and occasionally interjected some pleasant-sounding but meaningless phrase meant to make it sound like he knew what was going on. But the more he learned about the actual business of ruling, the more he realized that Anora was not always right. Her mind was sharp and incisive, her knowledge of Ferelden extensive and formidable - but she could be overly harsh, too quick to assume malice in every shortcoming of her allies and to punish them accordingly. He saw her father in her, for good and for ill. The unyielding nature she shared with Loghain often made grudging subjects out of arls and banns who might have become endlessly loyal to the crown if they had been shown leniency at the proper time.

Then the day arrived when Alistair could keep silent no longer. He and Anora were sitting in judgment of Bann Giles, a minor noble who had arrived in Denerim with evidence that one of his knights was an Orlesian spy. The knight, of course, had escaped to Orlais at the first hint that her cover had been blown, but Bann Giles's honor had demanded that he tell everything to the monarchs. Predictably, Anora was coldly furious. She had responded to the bann's confession with the suggestion that his holdings should be stripped of him and given to someone better able to control the flow of intelligence out of them.

 _That hardly seems fair,_ thought Alistair as Bann Giles continued to plead for mercy. _He did the right thing by coming here and telling us the truth, when he could have hidden what had happened and we would never have been the wiser._ When he interrupted the bann's increasingly desperate speech, the sound of his own voice surprised him. "What my queen means is that we cannot allow you to maintain your current holdings without ensuring that such a lapse can never happen again. But I'm sure we can arrange something to help you prevent further problems, can't we?" Bann Giles shut his mouth, which had been hanging open, as cautious optimism kindled in his eyes. "Here in Denerim, we have scholars who advise us on how to protect our archives and libraries from would-be spies. I'm sure we could spare a few of them to return to your bannorn with you. They could help you figure out what information the spy might have accessed, and set up new defenses against any future intrusions. And you will open your archives to those scholars, too, as a favor to the crown. That is, if my queen concurs?"

Anora frowned, considering Alistair's words. She knew as well as he did (thanks to his lessons in history) that Bann Giles's family maintained voluminous private libraries. They guarded their secrets so jealously that not even the most well-appointed Circles or universities had copies of many of their manuscripts. It was one of the reasons that any act of espionage against Bann Giles held so many potential dangers - and now, Alistair's proposal stood to grant the royal scholars an unheard-of level of access to those long-forgotten records.

"My husband is right," said Anora at last. "One of our diplomats will make the necessary arrangements. You will admit our scholars to your archives, and in exchange they will advise you on how you might better secure your information. That will be all the penance we require from you. If this happens again, however, we will not be so lenient." Alistair said nothing more, trying to act stony and unforgiving and not to let the triumph that he felt show through.

After Bann Giles departed, bowing and exclaiming in gratitude, Anora turned to Alistair and said, "That was wisely judged. I was fortunate that you were here to show me another way."

"You're welcome?" he said, giving her an experimental smile.

In response, her features softened. "I think that was the last petitioner for the day. I still need to speak with the delegation that just arrived from Highever, but when I'm finished, I would be honored if you would join me in my suite for dinner."

"I would be honored to accept."

It was easy for Alistair not to saddle himself with undue expectations of his dinner with Anora, since he scarcely knew what might happen during it in the first place. On the nights that were not occupied by state banquets or formal dinners with guests, he and Anora normally took their meals separately and privately. Her invitation was a turning point in their relationship, and he badly wanted not to disappoint her now that she had begun to open up to him. He had never imagined he could feel so nervous about sitting down at a table with his own wife. But she put him at ease immediately, offering him food and wine, asking him to share his thoughts on the recent events at court as if this were something they did all the time. He spoke his mind to her honestly, and admitted it when he didn't know enough about a particular issue to have a proper opinion on it. Their conversation wandered through courtly gossip and rumors and reminiscences, until the candles burned down to stubs in their holders and the summer sky past the windows faded into a golden and purple dusk. When Alistair and Anora finally agreed that they should go their separate ways for the night, he paused on his way to the door. "This was wonderful," he said. "I don't want to impose, but...is there any way you might possibly like to do this again sometime?"

"I would," said Anora. "What about tomorrow night?"

From that evening on, Alistair and Anora rarely ate dinner apart, alternating nights between Anora's suite and Alistair's whenever they did not have other obligations. At first, their meals resembled a more private version of a council meeting, in which they compared notes on the state of the court and planned their next moves together. But in time their conversations grew more personal. Anora told Alistair about growing up in the Teyrnir of Gwaren, about the things she had learned from her father even as he groomed her to aspire to an even higher political station. On occasion she spoke of Cailan with regretful fondness, or gave voice to the complicated and conflicted emotions that Loghain still inspired in her. Alistair listened intently to all of it, and let her cry on his shoulder a few times although he never quite knew what to say in response. In turn, he told her about his childhood in Redcliffe and his time among the templars. Sometimes, when he'd had more wine than usual with dinner, he talked about his travels during the Blight and the ways in which those journeys had changed him completely. These tales always seemed to end with him praising Elissa in the most glowing possible terms, but Anora gave them all her full attention and never displayed any hint of jealousy that he could discern.

Talking with Anora changed the way that Alistair talked to others as well. He became more confident in his own opinions of how to govern Ferelden, and more likely to express them. The people of Ferelden and the nobles with whom he interacted seemed to approve of his newfound confidence. They wanted a strong ruler, not a figurehead, and he found that he wanted to live up to their expectations. Sometimes, Alistair's views contradicted Anora's, but she readily accepted these differences of opinion as long as he could justify his positions to her later on. The rest of the time, he was all too happy to defer to her expertise.

Alistair also discovered that his sense of humor was a talent in and of itself. It had always been in his nature to respond to awkwardness or uncertainty by making jokes. The more serious the situation, the more likely he was to approach it with self-deprecating wisecracks. At first, he had thought Anora despised that part of him, but as he got to know her better he saw that he had it all wrong. Although Anora appreciated humor as much as anyone, she hated to think that she couldn't rely on him to take important things seriously, and hated feeling like the target of ridicule even more. She never told him any of this outright, but he came to understand that if he were not careful, what he saw as nothing but a witty aside might remind her of the people who saw her as a woman first and a ruler second. So he learned the things he shouldn't make light of around her and kept some of his cleverness to himself, and better targeted his words the rest of the time to make sure she was never the butt of the joke. The new precision of his speech enabled him to defuse tense situations with a perfectly-timed quip, which soon endeared him to allies and subjects alike and saved more than one negotiation from disaster. And when Anora became locked in a grim and rigid mindset, he learned how to liberate her with a few lightly teasing words that helped her see the matter anew - and, just as importantly, drew out her quiet, musical laughter and the bright quick flash of her smile.

He would never be sure which one of them initiated their first real kiss. It was a sudden and hungry thing that happened during a dinner in his suite and interrupted an intense debate about how to resolve an arlessa's petition for military intervention in a succession dispute in the South Reach. He only knew that once it happened, he never wanted it to stop. But Anora freed herself from his embrace when they had scarcely begun and said, "I must leave you for the night, my king. Let's continue this in my bedchamber tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to that promise, my queen," he said, his mouth gone suddenly dry.

"I would expect no less of you." They did not look away from each other until Anora abruptly pushed the door closed, as if she did not know if she would ever leave him unless she put a barrier between them.

From that night on, Alistair and Anora began to sit nearer to each other, to walk around the palace hand in hand. Everybody noticed, and it seemed that they all wanted to express their congratulations or give questionable advice or share words of encouragement on the topic of the changes in his relationship with the queen. The flustered stammer and blush with which he responded were entirely genuine. All the while their shared evenings grew more intimate, slowly and inexorably guiding them toward the moment they both knew was coming. Alistair found it strange, though not unenjoyable, to court his own wife in this way, to woo her with caresses and sweet words and acts of kindness. Each night they lingered after the meal for a little longer, and each night Anora slipped from his grasp with a knowing smile, saying, "Good night, my king." It was both romantic and frustrating, and he wondered why she insisted upon waiting when their desire for each other was already so evident. All the same, he knew better than to rush her or refuse her what she wanted.

And at last, one night after dinner in her suite, Anora wanted something new. He felt it in the way she intently devoured her meal, in the depth of their kisses and the closeness of their embrace. When she whispered in his ear, "My king, it would give me great pleasure if you would stay with me tonight," he was so ready for what she'd spent weeks coyly preparing him for that he literally swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed.

Their second night together had little in common with their first. This time, they moved slowly and deliberately, taking tentative first steps into a shared world they hoped to have many years to explore. This time, Alistair thought of no woman other than the one in his arms. And when, in the pale grey light of dawn, Anora looked into his eyes and told him, "I love you," he said it immediately back to her and meant every word.

So Alistair did his best to rule his kingdom fairly and wisely, to love his wife and to treat her with all the kindness and tenderness she deserved. When he had first found out what his life would become, he had never imagined that there could be so much happiness in it. He didn't forget everything that had come before, but he found it easier to content himself with the many good things that he had unexpectedly discovered, instead of dwelling on times gone by.

Until the day that the letter came.


	3. Chapter 3

_29th Drakonis, 9:32 Dragon_  
_Fortress of Vigil's Keep, Arling of Amaranthine_

_~~My dearest~~ Your Majesty King Alistair,_

_I pray this letter finds you and Her Majesty the Queen in good health and in good spirits. My warmest congratulations on the first anniversary of your reign and on the first year of your marriage. May you both be blessed with many more like it._

_I write first of all to assure you that I am both alive and well, despite any rumors you may have heard to the contrary. Since the end of the Blight I have spent most of my time traveling to attend to numerous matters in Ferelden and beyond, but for the time being I have settled in the fortress of Vigil's Keep to direct my energies toward rebuilding the Grey Wardens. Our victory over the Archdemon has inspired many volunteers to join the Order; if this goes on the Wardens will have no need of conscripts for many years to come. Even our old friend Oghren got involved, if you can believe that. He asked to be put through the Joining last year, and survived, thank the Maker. I was grateful to have him fighting beside me in recent battles. He hasn't changed much, although being a Grey Warden seems to agree with him._

_By now, news of the darkspawn attack on Amaranthine and the Wardens' victory will surely have reached you. Vigil's Keep held out against the siege attempted by our foe, and our efforts also spared the city of Amaranthine from total destruction. But too many good people lost their lives in the battle, and the process of rebuilding what has been damaged will no doubt be lengthy. The details of the conflict are likely of some interest to Your Majesties, but they are too complex (and too sensitive) to be entrusted to a letter. For this reason, I also write to inform you that I must speak with you in person at your earliest convenience. I have learned many things that I must share with you for the safety of Ferelden and all of its people._

_By the time this letter arrives, I will already be on my way to Denerim in the company of a few fellow Wardens. I apologize for not following the proper channels to request an audience with you. I beg your indulgence and hope that our shared history and the importance of the message that I carry will be enough to convince you to accommodate my presumptuous demands. (You know I always thought it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.)_

_The heavy snows that fell last winter prevented us from making safe passage through the mountains before now, and I will have much to do during my brief stay in your royal city. However, I look forward to our conversation and to seeing you and Queen Anora again. I have had very little credible news of Denerim during my travels, but I have heard that the two of you seem very happy together. I dearly wish for this to be true. Your happiness is still the one thing I most desire._

_Yours,_  
_Elissa Cousland_  
_Warden-Commander of Ferelden_


	4. Chapter 4

Alistair cautiously set aside the letter and gazed out his window at the walls and towers that surrounded him, uncertain of how to feel. He had not seen or heard from Elissa since their brief, stilted conversation at the celebration after she killed the Archdemon. Now she would be here in the palace within days, expecting to see a mighty ruler and not the naïve, lovelorn ex-templar he had become all over again the instant he read her words. He looked down at the parchment and chuckled to himself as he reread, _You know I always thought it was better to ask forgiveness than permission._ It was so like Elissa to act before thinking, even to the point of marching into the Royal Palace unannounced and expecting the king himself to clear his schedule in order to speak to her - and she was right to think that he would do so. Her easy charm and unapologetic impetuousness explained why she was the Hero of Ferelden and he was only called "king" by an accident of birth.

He banished fond memories from his mind before he could follow the dangerous path down which they led. He was afraid that if he indulged them, they would become an impediment to the precious, unexpected bond that he and Anora now shared. When Alistair had first realized the full truth of his feelings for Anora, he had expected that new love would eventually cover over his old longings the way that the shopkeepers in the market had whitewashed away the scorch marks on their buildings' facades after the Battle of Denerim, until his time with Elissa would be nothing but a distant, bittersweet remembrance. He had tried to convince himself of this idea by studiously forcing himself not to think about his first love. But now that all of his excuses had fled, he knew that he still felt every rapturous, painful ounce of what he had once felt for Elissa - and that it was no more and no less than what he felt for Anora. The discovery was inconvenient, but in some ways unsurprising. After all, many merchants in Denerim had seen their shops burn to the ground during the Blight and would spend the rest of their lives rebuilding. Not every transformation could be so easily hidden from view with a bucket of paint and a prayer.

At dinner in Alistair's suite, Anora immediately knew that something was troubling him. He had never had much success at hiding things from her, almost as if concealing Morrigan's dark ritual from everyone had used up his ability to keep any other secrets. As soon as she asked him what was wrong, he told her all about Elissa's letter. He stopped short of elaborating on the feelings that the letter had rekindled, reasoning that Anora already knew about them anyway.

"The Warden-Commander can't make a habit of just appearing whenever she feels like it," Anora said with a frustrated sigh. "She's fortunate that we'll be able to oblige her this time."

"You should talk to her about it," said Alistair. "I mean, if you don't mind. You'll probably get better results. I've always had this troubling tendency to go along with whatever Elissa says."

"Indeed," said Anora, with the dry tone and arched eyebrows that told Alistair that she knew he was making a joke and was pretending not to be amused by it. "I'd rather let one of the seneschals handle it. I'd prefer that she and I spend as little time together as possible."

"Why is that?"

"Because it's important for the monarchy to maintain good relations with the Grey Wardens, and I don't want to damage our alliance with them. In case you haven't noticed, Alistair, the Warden-Commander and I aren't very fond of each other."

"I doubt she'd say that about you, my queen. Elissa always spoke of you with great respect."

"That's not what I meant." Anora sighed again. "I will always be grateful for everything she sacrificed to stop the Blight. She saved us all, and there's no use now in questioning the methods she used to do it. I also know how much she meant to you. I know you loved her once."

"I still do." It was easier to admit it than he had expected.

"I know that, too. And I won't ever begrudge what you shared with her. I'm not some jealous shrew who can't set the past aside. I'll be civil to her at court, and work alongside her as I must. But Alistair, you must not expect that Elissa and I will ever be friends."

"Because she killed your father," he said softly, and reached for her hand.

She nodded and wove her fingers into his. "I know his crimes were terrible. He left her little choice in the matter. That doesn't make it easier for me to look her in the eye. And when I think about the fact that she killed Cauthrien, too..."

Alistair hadn't thought about Ser Cauthrien in months. Now, he suddenly remembered Elissa arriving late to the Landsmeet with blood staining her armor, explaining under her breath, _I tried to make her see reason, to convince her that Loghain had to be stopped. But she said she would support him to the end. She drew steel on me. She wouldn't step aside. She left me no choice..._ "I had forgotten," he admitted.

"I hadn't. I don't think I ever will."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know the two of you were close."

"We were lovers."

Anora's voice was so quiet that at first, Alistair wasn't sure he had heard her correctly. But he saw the pain etched in her face, the unshed tears brimming in her eyes, and knew that he had. Elissa had once told him that same-sex flings were a normal and expected part of growing up among the Fereldan nobility. Such youthful dalliances were tacitly accepted, in large part because they ran no risk of producing inconvenient bastards like Alistair. Elissa had implied that she'd been with women in the years before she met him - a possibility that, he had to admit, filled his mind with all sorts of fascinating images. It had simply never occurred to him that Anora might have done the same. "I didn't know that either," he said.

"Of course not. Why should you have? I don't even know if I loved her, not really. But I haven't been able to forget her, or what Elissa did." Anora pulled away from Alistair's grip and spread her hands helplessly before her. He listened intently as she continued to speak, knowing there was nothing else he could do. "The Blight, the war...it was a strange time for everyone. Toward the end, when my father had me locked away in Arl Howe's estate, he didn't trust anyone but Cauthrien and Erlina around me. Erlina was a friend to me too, of course, but Cauthrien and I...We had so much in common. We shared the same views about many things, and there was no one else I could really talk to about what was happening. We didn't know who would win the war, or what would happen to us if my father's forces lost. Or the Blight might take them all and end the world, for all we knew. We comforted each other, when and how we could. I think we both understood it would never be more than that. But she was kind to me, at a time when I had no one else. I know I should have told you this before."

"That doesn't matter." Alistair stood up from his chair and moved to the other side of the table to kneel beside her and take her hand again. "I hadn't even met you then. It's good that you had her with you when things were difficult."

"Yes. It was." She trailed gentle fingers along his cheek. "I don't want to talk about this any more tonight. What's done is done, and we'll face what comes next together. Come, my king. Let's go to bed." Alistair was all too happy to comply, to kiss away the wrinkles of worry from Anora's brow, to make slow, gentle love to her until she fell asleep with her head pillowed on his chest. He stared up into the canopy of his bed, tried and failed to sleep. For the first time in many months, Elissa alone occupied his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

A few days later, when Alistair heard the fanfare that announced a visitor at the palace, he immediately knew that Elissa had arrived. He dropped the scroll he had been reading and rushed out of his study and onto the battlements, hurrying toward the palace gates at a speed more fit for an excited child than a king. He skidded to a halt at the edge of the castle wall and watched the small party of half a dozen mounted Wardens and a few mabari making their way up the road. The armored figure at the front of the group had the visor of her helmet lowered over her face, but he recognized the Warden-Commander's loose, confident posture as she rode. He saw the heraldry emblazoned on her banners and her shield - " _Azure, a griffon volant argent and in its claws a red rose proper_ ," a herald called out - and felt his heart seize with longing as he took in the griffon in flight, the rose that it clutched like a weapon.

He stumbled down the stairs and stood in the center of the courtyard to greet the visitors. The lead rider dismounted, adjusted the shield on her back, and lifted her visor. For the first time in more than a year, Alistair looked upon Elissa Cousland again. Her dark eyes met his, recognition and something more flickering in their depths. "Your Majesty, I have come to request an audience with...well, you, actually."

"I know. I got your letter. It was a nice letter. Very informative." He noticed then that the guards and the other Wardens were regarding him with confusion, and he cleared his throat. "I mean. Welcome to the palace, El - um. Warden-Commander. I'd offer you the grand tour but we both know you've been here before." _You know, back when you executed my late father-in-law_.

Much to Alistair's relief, one of the seneschals stepped in to rescue him. "Yes, welcome, Warden-Commander. Our grooms will see your horses to the stable and your mabari to the kennels, and I will be happy to escort your party to their rooms."

"Thank you," said Elissa. "The horses and mabari could use some water, but this visit must be brief. We'll be returning to our camp outside the city as soon as I've finished speaking to the king and queen. We have other business to conduct elsewhere in Denerim, and we can't afford to be away from Vigil's Keep for very long." She never once took her eyes off Alistair.

Alistair wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. "I'll inform the queen," he said, and walked briskly back into the palace before he could say or do anything even more foolish. Anora must have already heard that Elissa had arrived, because she met Alistair on the way to the audience chambers and followed him there without saying a word. As they sat beside each other on their thrones, watching the servants and stewards make the room ready, Anora reached out for him and briefly squeezed his hand. He gave her a single nod in understanding as the doors began to swing open. He was glad that she was here with him.

"Presenting Warden-Commander Elissa Cousland of Vigil's Keep, Arlessa of Amaranthine and the Hero of Ferelden," said a herald, and Alistair fought the urge to stand up in Elissa's honor as she crossed the expanse of marble floor to kneel before his throne. She had cut her hair since the end of the Blight, and it framed her tanned and expressive face in fine wisps that brought out her sharp nose and high cheekbones. Her silverite armor was scuffed and dusty from the road, and her sword hung ready at her side. The big brown mabari she had only ever called Dog padded along behind her, his muzzle a little greyer now but his eyes as alert and intelligent as ever. Before, in the courtyard, Alistair had thought he saw stiffness in her movements, and when she rose to her feet after Anora acknowledged her presence, he saw that she favored her left knee. A wave of concern and guilt washed over him - she'd been injured, and he hadn't been there to protect her! - but he suppressed it. Considering the patterns of their relationship, even if he'd been there she probably would have ended up needing to rescue them both.

Anora noticed Elissa's injury, too, because she said to a nearby servant, "Shanna, please fetch a chair for the Warden-Commander. I won't have her aggravating her wounds on my account."

The servant scurried away and quickly brought back a low, padded stool. Elissa sat down on it with a groan of relief, and Dog curled up beside her with his tail thumping contentedly against the floor. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she said. "As you can see, my battle with the Mother was like nothing I've ever experienced. The Archdemon was one thing, but intelligent darkspawn…If I never see their like again, it will be too soon."

"Intelligent darkspawn?" said Alistair with alarm. "Elissa, you must tell us everything."

"That's what I came here to do," said Elissa. She began to talk and didn't stop for a long time, explaining the civil war between the darkspawn and how she had reluctantly allied with the Architect to defeat the greater threat posed by the Mother. She told them about the attack on Amaranthine, how she had gambled on Vigil's Keep holding out against the Mother's forces - and won, but at a cost. She even told the story of Nathaniel Howe, who she had conscripted into the Grey Wardens to give him the chance at redemption that he so dearly wanted, and who had ultimately died in the defense of Vigil's Keep. Almost an hour passed before her tale concluded.

"Why have you told us all of this, Warden-Commander?" asked Anora, sounding overwhelmed. The three of them and Dog were alone in the audience chamber now, since Alistair had ordered everyone else to leave as soon as the sensitivity of the information became apparent.

"Because I want to know that you're on my side, Your Majesties." Elissa was hoarse from speaking for so long, but just as commanding and self-assured as ever. "I don't know what the the future holds. The Grey Wardens are much stronger than we once were, but we can't face every threat alone. I let the Architect live, even though I'm sure its future plans are incompatible with mine. If it comes back, I want to be ready." She stood up from her chair and hobbled closer to the thrones with Dog at her heels. "The Wardens of Ferelden were nearly wiped out during the Fifth Blight, in part because they had no awareness of politics. They held themselves apart from everyone else, and it nearly meant their doom. I won't repeat the mistakes of my predecessors. I want the Grey Wardens to stay involved in the defense of the kingdom that shelters them. Alistair - I mean, Your Majesty, even though you have been released from the oaths and duties of a Warden, you understand our mission in a way no other king could. I hope that our shared history can form the basis for trust between us. I want to be your ally, if you will let me be."

Anora spoke before Alistair could even begin to formulate a response. "You are not only the Warden-Commander, Elissa. You are also the Hero of Ferelden. We have not forgotten what that means. We are grateful you have shared this information with us, even knowing that we might not agree with all of your decisions." Alistair nodded in vigorous agreement. "I concur with your assessment of the situation. We want to continue the close alliance that we have already begun to forge with the Grey Wardens."

"I'm relieved to hear that," said Elissa.

"Please stay for dinner," Alistair blurted out. "We have so much more to talk about."

"We do," said Elissa, "but I think it would be better if I kept to my original plan. The other Wardens and I really do have a lot of other business in Denerim." He felt Anora relax beside him and wondered how much of Elissa's excuse was genuine, and how much of it was meant to spare everyone from an awkward situation.

"I understand," said Alistair. "But I hope you'll come back soon, Warden-Commander."

"I will," said Elissa. But before she could depart, Alistair found himself getting up and crossing the room to stand beside her, closer than they had been since before the Archdemon.

"It gave me great pleasure to see you again," he said. Impulsively, he took her hand and brought it to his lips, barely brushing them across her knuckles. Her eyes widened, and he swiftly dropped his gaze to the floor. He listened to her footsteps receding from the throne room and the doors closing behind her and wondered if he'd said the wrong thing yet again.

But even if he had, it didn't keep Elissa away. She never quite became a regular fixture at the palace, but when the weather allowed for travel between Denerim and Vigil's Keep she found frequent excuses to visit, always giving more warning of her arrival than she had the first time around. She came with news of political upheaval in Orlais and the Free Marches and beyond, of Qunari incursions along the coastline of the Waking Sea, of gangs of bandits lurking on the roads of Ferelden, of dangerous wildlife that needed to be eliminated. Alistair and Anora would not have known about many of these problems without Elissa's information, and they thanked her with a steady stream of loans, supplies, and recruits discreetly directed toward the Wardens.

When she could not come to Denerim, Elissa proved to be a prolific correspondent. At first, her letters came addressed to Alistair and Anora both - until, in a rather awkward conversation during one of her visits, Anora made it clear that she was welcome to write to either one of them individually. "Would you like it if I wrote to you, then?" Elissa asked Anora, and Alistair was astonished when Anora nodded in response.

Later, when Alistair asked Anora about it, uncertain whether Anora really meant it or was just trying to be polite, Anora said only, "She isn't what I expected." Alistair remembered then that despite Anora's initial insistence that she and Elissa would never be friends, the two of them had never interacted outside of the chaotic weeks that had surrounded the Landsmeet. Those trying times hadn't really allowed anyone in Ferelden to present their best self. He was oddly reassured that Anora no longer seemed to judge Elissa based only upon the things she'd had no real choice but to do, even though he wouldn't necessarily have blamed her if she had. So he tried not to let on how excited he was by the change in Anora's attitude. What happened next was for Anora to decide, without outside influence or the weight of his expectations.

Elissa's visits to the palace gradually became longer and more relaxed, and she eventually accepted an invitation to dinner. She had a somewhat stilted meal with Alistair and Anora in a dining room that felt simultaneously too large and too small, but at the end all three of them agreed that they had greatly enjoyed the experience and that they should do it again. And they did, mainly talking of treaties and alliances and politics rather than anything truly personal - but it was still more than Alistair had ever dreamed of.

"Are you happy?" he asked Elissa one night as he walked her to the guest room in which she was staying. Anora and Dog trailed behind them like a pair of friendly shadows.

"Yes," Elissa replied. "None of this is what I expected. But that doesn't make it bad."

"I feel the same," he said. They had reached her quarters. She turned and smiled, lingering in the doorway, and he was struck by the sudden urge to kiss her despite the fact that Anora was right there. Instead he grinned foolishly back at her until she closed the door, and walked back to his own suite wondering, as always, what it all meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the benefit of those people who didn't spend a good chunk of their childhood nerding out about heraldry the way I did, the image on Elissa's shield and banners is a silver griffon in flight, on a blue background, holding a red rose in its claws.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned previously, this chapter contains a minor instance of infidelity/non-negotiated polyamory (kissing).

Another year passed before Alistair had the chance to speak to Elissa alone. Amaranthine's long rebuilding process had finally concluded, and the acting governor had invited Alistair and Anora to a ball celebrating the city's reconstruction. The monarchs had always planned to attend it together, but in the days before they were to depart, Anora suddenly fell ill and took to her bed, shivering and nauseated. The palace healers diagnosed a common, mild fever that would run its course in due time, but they also said it would be best if she did not travel until she recovered. At first, Anora insisted that an upset stomach would not keep her from her obligations. But after a lengthy debate during which she had to pause twice to retch into a basin, she grudgingly conceded that under the circumstances, Alistair was more than capable of representing the monarchy on his own.

Alistair knew that Anora's absence from the ball and the news of her illness would surely touch off a fresh round of rumors regarding her supposed pregnancy. Lately it seemed that she could not so much as sneeze in public without every gossiping servant in Denerim insisting that she was about to give birth to triplets in the middle of the throne room. Privately, he had begun to doubt that there would ever be truth to those stories. Anora had long been suspected to be barren, but even if that were not the case, Alistair knew that taking the Joining had made it unlikely that he would ever father children. On the rare occasions that they talked about it, Anora was unconcerned. "Let's stabilize Ferelden now," she said, "and worry about an heir later." So he took her advice, and dealt with the situation by trying not to think about it, as he did with all the other things that he could not control.

Perhaps it was because he had been trying so hard not to think about so many things that he was unprepared to see Elissa at the ball. He shouldn't have been; it would have been much stranger for the Warden-Commander who had saved Amaranthine not to be present to celebrate its survival. He was listening to a bann from somewhere in the south complain about the low prices that the apple crop had fetched during the last growing season when he glimpsed her across the ballroom and nearly dropped his glass of wine. She wore a finely tailored shirt and trousers and a ceremonial sword at her hip, which was probably a compromise between the formal dresses in which most of the other women were clothed and the full plate armor she had no doubt wanted to wear. Her eyes met his across the crowded room, and he looked away, pretending to be fascinated by the bann's increasingly technical gripes. In all of Elissa's visits to the palace since his coronation, he had never once been alone with her. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that now, or if he would ever be.

Elissa was less hesitant. "Excuse me," he heard her say, inches from his ear, during a pause in the bann's narration. "My lord, would you mind terribly if I had a few words with His Majesty?"

"Oh, Warden-Commander, of course not!" stammered the bann. He bowed and backed away, obviously impressed that Elissa had noticed him at all, as if he hadn't just been talking to a king. _That's only natural_ , Alistair thought. _I'm as awestruck by her as ever. I've just had more practice at hiding it._

Elissa held her mouth in a straight, serious line even as her eyes sparkled playfully. "That sounded like a very boring conversation."

"A king must always show interest in the concerns of his subjects, large or small," he said, and drained his glass.

"So it was boring, then."

"I didn't say that."

"Spoken like an honest-to-the-Maker king." She smirked, flagged down a passing servant for two more glasses of wine, and handed one to Alistair. "How have you been, Your Majesty?"

"Why, Warden-Commander, I'm beginning to suspect your business with me wasn't nearly as urgent as you implied it was to Bann Josiah."

"Urgent, no. Important, yes, in the sense that I didn't want to let this increasingly tedious party go by without talking to you. But I can invent something urgent, if that would make you feel better." She drew her eyebrows together into a worried expression and made an elaborate curtsy, holding one arm out straight to keep from spilling her wine. "Your Majesty, I have traveled long and far, from the other side of the buffet table, to bring you troubling news from the manor gardens. It is rumored that darkspawn have been spotted among the hedgerows."

He played along. "Darkspawn in the hedges? That is certainly cause for alarm. Tell me more."

"Well, the rumors are just that: rumors. Personally, I think it's more likely that this so-called Sixth Blight is the doing of my extremely flatulent mabari, who managed to eat an entire leg of candied lamb off a serving tray when my back was turned. But as the most experienced Wardens in Ferelden, I'd say it's our duty to investigate the matter anyway. Don't you agree?"

It was still so easy to talk to her, even after all the time that had passed. But something about the way he felt when he imagined strolling through the moonlit gardens with Elissa by his side made him pause. He considered declining, but knew it would make things even more awkward if he had to explain why. _It's only a walk in the gardens,_ he told himself. _That's all it ever needs to be._ So he smiled back at her and tried to convince himself he was telling the truth when he said, "Yes, I think that's for the best."

Together they glided through the ballroom and slipped out into the night. Dog was waiting on the other side of the door, looking smug and smelling every bit as noxious as Elissa had implied. Alistair scratched him behind the ears and accepted a few friendly, slobbery licks in greeting. The guards at the door offered them an escort, which they declined. It was a formality anyway, given the unlikelihood of Alistair and Elissa encountering any threat they couldn't handle.

With Dog between them, they walked down a winding cobblestone path between sculpted hedges, enveloped in the heady scent of night-blooming flowers and fertile soil, sipping their wine as they went. The noise of the party receded, replaced by the low song of insects and the babbling of fountains. They were silent for a while, moving farther into the garden, until Alistair could no longer bear it. "Seems peaceful enough to me."

"I suspected as much," said Elissa. "I'm glad we investigated it anyway. All in a day's work for the duty that cannot be forsworn."

Alistair laughed in spite of himself, all too aware that not so long ago he would have been the one telling the jokes. "It really is good to see you again, Elissa."

"It's good to see you, too. I wish Anora could have been here with us." _She really means that,_ he realized. "I heard she was ill. I hope she feels better soon."

"It's nothing serious. She can't wait to catch up with you the next time you're in Denerim." In front of them was a small iron bench tucked away between a few overgrown bushes. Elissa grabbed Alistair's arm and pulled him down to sit next to her. Dog sprawled at their feet. He took a deep breath, smelled the blossoms that surrounded them, and thought, _Roses. That figures._ He knew he should keep quiet, but the night and the garden and her closeness were all too much and so he asked his question anyway. "Why did you put the rose in your heraldry?"

The light of the crescent moon reflected in her eyes. She studied his face for a long time before she spoke. "I think you already know the answer to that question."

"Maybe so, but I want to hear it from you."

"As Your Majesty commands," Elissa said, but the words sounded brittle in her mouth, a fragile shield that shattered before it could deflect anything. "I wear the rose to make sure I don't forget you, or the things you taught me. The idea that we can find beauty where we least expect it, even in the darkest times...I want to live my life that way. It's hard to do, but it's valuable. I think about that lesson a lot. Almost as much as I think about you." She paused. "You know that I never stopped loving you, right?"

"Then for Andraste's sake, why didn't you tell the Landsmeet you would rule alongside me?" Alistair was shocked by the bitterness in his own voice. "You're a Cousland. Your claim to the throne was just as strong as Anora's, if not stronger. Maker, it was probably even better than mine. And you know I would have married you if you had only let me."

"I would have made a terrible queen." There was nothing teasing or self-deprecating in Elissa's manner now, just a flat statement of fact. "I'm best at fighting darkspawn, not dealing with bickering nobles. I have no head for law or politics. I'm impulsive and I have an awful temper and I take everything too personally. That's not what Ferelden needs in a monarch right now. But Anora...I respect her tremendously, Alistair. The better I get to know her, the more convinced I am that I made the right choice. If I'd married you, she would have been imprisoned or executed. Ferelden would be much worse off if we'd thrown her abilities away like that. She knows everything and everyone - all the major players, all the things they want and need. All the right strings to pull to make everyone work together. She knows when to compromise and when to stand her ground. She'll lie when she has to, but she also knows when to tell the truth. She's everything a queen should be, and more. The only thing she didn't have was a birthright, and someone else could provide that."

"You're right. Maybe you should have married Anora instead." Alistair had meant it as a joke, but Elissa didn't laugh. She dipped her head and tensed her shoulders, and he could have sworn she was blushing. _What was that all about?_

"Beauty isn't the only lesson of the rose," Elissa said. It sounded like a change of subject, but he knew that it wasn't. "That flower didn't ask to grow in the middle of a Blight. All that it could do was bloom where it was planted. I want to do the same. I think that you do, too."

"Yes," he said. "I do." She tilted her head up toward him, her lips slightly parted, her hands twisting in her lap, and he felt the last remaining strands of his self-control fray and snap. His mouth was on hers before he understood what he was doing, before he had the chance to convince himself that it was wrong. Her arms were around his waist and his hands were in her hair and Andraste's flaming pyre, it was as if no time had passed at all, as if nothing had changed in the years since their bodies had last intertwined. Kissing her was as easy and as natural as breathing. Kissing her felt like waking up, like coming home.

But it was over too soon. Shyly, she let go of him and stood up from the bench with shame shading her features. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"I know."

Elissa clicked her tongue, summoning Dog to her side. "You should go back to the ball, Your Majesty. There are a lot of people waiting to see you."

"I know."

She took a few steps up the path that led back to the manor, then looked back at him. "Goodbye," she said, but it didn't sound final. She melted into the shadows, and he stayed behind, trying to ignore how every instinct he possessed screamed that he should follow her. Long past the time that his absence from the party would be noticed, he sat in the darkened garden and wondered which had been the worst mistake: kissing her, or letting her go when she walked away.


	7. Chapter 7

During his remaining days in Amaranthine, Alistair did not see Elissa again. It was a small kindness that he didn't, since even their brief interaction at the ball had been enough to ensure that he could think of nothing else for the rest of his stay and the entirety of the journey back to Denerim. Hours of contemplation led him to a single conclusion: He needed to tell Anora about everything that had happened as soon as possible. When he arrived at the palace, he left his horse to the stablehands and grooms and immediately went in search of the queen. He found her in her bedroom, still looking tired and pale but at least sitting up at her writing desk and perusing some scrolls instead of lying in bed. She took in his dirty face and dusty armor, and observed, "You're in a hurry, my king."

He collapsed into the chair across from her with a thump and a clatter. "Yes. I need to talk to you. I've - I did something I shouldn't have, in Amaranthine. And I owe it to you to tell the truth about it." So he told her everything that had happened at the ball, from his conversation with Elissa all the way through their kiss. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"I forgive you," said Anora, and Alistair exhaled heavily in relief. "But you know I couldn't have been angry with you in the first place, don't you?"

"Really?"

"To be honest, I've always expected something like this would happen between you and Elissa. I think I used up all my anger already in imagining it." Her smile was weak but genuine. "The two of you parted under difficult circumstances. You never really said a proper farewell to her before now. Of course I wish you hadn't done it, but I understand why you did. Thank you for telling me. Many men wouldn't have."

"That's the thing, though. It wasn't a farewell. I feel like I didn't end anything with her in Amaranthine - it's more like I started something new, or at least realized that I want to. Maker's breath, I wish I were better at explaining this. I love you, Anora. Honestly."

She rested her hand on his forearm, a comforting weight he could feel even through his armor. "I know that. And I love you, too."

"And it seems like that should be enough, doesn't it? When I fell in love with you, I thought that would be the end of it." He gestured at the papers on her desk. "Like filling up one blank book, and starting another, and putting the first one away. But it's actually more like starting over on a new page in the same book. Everything that happened before is still right there."

"I know what you mean. In some ways, it's easier for me than it is for you. The people I loved before you are all gone now."

"Oh. Right. Brilliant work, Alistair. I'll remind my wife about all her greatest tragedies and then we'll make a contest out of who feels sadder! That's the perfect way to apologize to her for having kissed another woman."

"Stop it," said Anora, trying not to laugh. "I didn't mean it that way. What I meant to say was that love is strange. Nobody can predict what it will do. I think that all we can do is to be honest with each other about everything we feel."

"I'll try to keep doing that."

Anora tried to speak, but hesitated. Alistair understood that she must have been thinking about her next words for a long time now. He could not possibly have been less prepared for them. "If you want to make love to Elissa again, you have my permission to do it."

"What?!" At first he thought he had misheard her, or that she was joking, but the serious expression on her face never wavered. "What," he repeated.

"Of course, if you don't want to, then…"

"No! I do want to, very much. Oh, Maker, that sounds awful. Not because I don't want to make love to you too, or because you're bad in bed, or because I'm unsatisfied...and all of that sounds even worse, doesn't it?" Alistair sighed and rubbed his temples, feeling his face heating up. Most of the time, he couldn't even talk frankly about sex with his lawfully wedded wife without getting embarrassed and babbling. How was he supposed to talk to anyone about...whatever this was? He tried again. "How can I do that when we're married? I made a promise to be faithful to you."

"But you _have_ been faithful to me, Alistair. The fact that you told me about kissing her was more than enough to convince me of that. It's hardly infidelity if I tell you you're allowed to do it."

"I suppose it isn't. But I wouldn't want to do... _that_ with someone you disapproved of. Even with your blessing, it wouldn't seem right. And I thought you didn't like Elissa."

"I don't know what I think of Elissa anymore," said Anora. Her brow was creased in the same way it did when she was trying to navigate a particularly complex diplomatic conundrum at court. "But I know without a doubt that she is honorable. I'm glad we started writing to each other, because now I see that she doesn't make her decisions cruelly or capriciously. She has reasons for what she does, even if I don't always agree with them - and that makes all the difference." Her fingertips skimmed Alistair's still-reddened cheek. "More than anything, I want you to be happy. I've asked myself, if Cailan or Cauthrien were here again, wouldn't I want one more night with them, too? I know that I would. And I can't deny you the same. So if being with Elissa again would make you happy, I don't want to stand in your way."

"I'm not sure what to say to that, honestly. I have no experience with any of this."

"It's not as if I do either, you know."

"Right, yes, of course not. This offer...it's kind of you. And generous. It's only...you know it's never been easy for me, separating love from...well, everything else that goes along with love. I want to sleep with her, it's true. But that isn't all I want from her. And I know myself well enough to know that if I do it, I'll want more than just one night. It wouldn't be fair to you or to Elissa to pretend it can be otherwise for me. If there were some way that I could be with both of you…"

"I don't know what to say about that. Will you give me more time to think about it?"

"Yes. I think I need that, too."

"In the meantime, my offer stands." Now it was Anora's turn to kiss him, soft and lingering and filled with the promise of so much more to come. "Write her a letter, my king. Tell her everything that I told you. The next time we see her, we can talk until we figure all of this out. Together."


	8. Chapter 8

_1st Bloomingtide, 9:33 Dragon_  
_Royal Palace, Denerim_

_Warden-Commander Elissa,_

_~~Greetings! How are you? I have a proposition for you! The next time you're in Denerim we should meet up at the Pearl again for old time's sake and~~ _

_~~I write to you with excellent news. Queen Anora has formally given us permission to don the velvet hat again, so~~ _

_~~You are cordially invited to the royal palace for an evening of sex~~ ~~lovemaking~~ ~~nookie~~_

_It seems I don't know how to begin this letter to you. I thought it would be easier than speaking to you in person, but I was wrong. I've been wrong about lots of things, though, and I will keep on being wrong about lots of others, so this shouldn't be anything new._

_I told Anora about what happened at the ball in Amaranthine. I want to assure you that she isn't angry. We talked for a long time, and the conversation didn't go anything like I expected it would. She said that she didn't mind that I kissed you and that she didn't even mind if we did more than that, and that I should write to you about where we all go from here. So, here I am, writing to you._

_Seeing you in Amaranthine reminded me of how much I lost when I walked away from you. I hope it's not too late to say that I want to be with you again. I want to hold you and do all sorts of other things that I'm too embarrassed to write down on paper. But that isn't all I want. The fact that I love Anora in no way diminishes the fact that I have never for a moment stopped loving you. I want to find a way to give myself to you and Anora both, in soul as well as in body. I said as much to Anora and now I'm saying it to you, just the way that she told me to._

_I know this is a lot to take in. I don't really understand it myself. For all I know, you may have torn this letter up and thrown it away the instant I started in on this nonsense about loving two people at once. At least now I know that I tried my best to tell you what you mean to me._

_So here's what I propose. The next time you visit, I would very much like to accept Anora's offer. That is to say, I would very much like to have sex with you again. Presuming that's what you want, of course. I presume a lot sometimes. And after that, I want to talk to you about all of this and see if there isn't some way that you and me and Anora can come to some sort of understanding. I don't know what will happen next or what it would mean for the three of us. I don't have a map to the place we would all be going. But I want to change the road we're on together - as long as you want that too._

_I pray that you are well and that you are happy at Vigil's Keep, or wherever this letter ultimately finds you. Please write back and tell me if you think we might be able to make this thing work, or if all of this is just another silly idea I've dreamed up. And no matter what, never doubt that I still love you, and that I always will._

_Be safe, Elissa. Come back to me soon._

_Yours,_  
_Alistair_


	9. Chapter 9

The thick, oppressive heat of August made the royal library feel crowded even though Alistair and Anora were the only ones in the room. Humidity clung to Alistair's skin like a heavy blanket, fogging his senses and making him want to do nothing but lie around and bemoan the weather until autumn arrived. He was about to doze off in his chair, carried away on a blissful dream of cool breezes, when the chamberlain's voice startled him back to awareness. "Your Majesties, Arl Morwin Croy of Edgehall has arrived."

"Send him in," said Anora, sounding much more alert than Alistair. _It's those light summer dresses - practical for keeping cool, and attractive too,_ he thought. He stole a glance at her, admiring how her gauzy, sleeveless blue dress showed off the lines of her shoulders and neck. She noticed him looking, gave him a quick seductive smile before resuming her formal, queenly pose. _All right, hot weather is good for some things after all._

Arl Morwin was a tall, heavyset, dark-skinned man whose rigid posture and missing left arm marked him as a veteran of many military campaigns. Under his right arm he carried an impressive collection of scrolls, which he dropped without ceremony on the table at which Alistair and Anora were sitting. "Your Majesties," he said, pulling up a chair of his own, "I am here to inform you of some encouraging progress toward the resolution of Edgehall's border dispute with Orzammar. The last time we discussed it, you told me to inform you when your intervention would be needed. I requested an audience with you because that time has come."

"Beg pardon, Arl Morwin, but you'll have to refresh my memory about the matter at hand," said Alistair. "It's been several months since we spoke about this." It wasn't that Alistair didn't pay attention to the petitions of his subjects, although his mind did have a tendency to wander during the more complex negotiations. There were just so many different demands that he couldn't keep track of them all. At least Anora always knew exactly what was going on.

"With pleasure," said Morwin. He unrolled the largest of his scrolls across the table, revealing a map of the western territories of Ferelden and the foothills of the Frostback Mountains. "As you may recall, almost a year ago, a chasm opened up in one of my tenants' wheat fields after a minor earthquake. She and her children explored the caverns below and found a rich vein of silverite and substantial deposits of precious stones. There's even a little lyrium down there. However, before my people could begin mining any of it, we started getting letters from some deshyr from Orzammar saying that the mine was the rightful property of the dwarves."

"Ah, yes, Beveleth Stonemarrow," said Alistair. The details of Morwin's problem were coming back to him now. When the arl had asked the crown for assistance, word of Alistair and Anora's involvement had somehow gotten back to Orzammar. For months now, they had been receiving letters written in Beveleth's neat, blocky hand, laying out the dwarves' claim to the mine in increasingly firm language. Anora had drafted a diplomatic and noncommittal response to each missive, not wanting to cede such a valuable resource to another kingdom while there was any chance that Ferelden might hold on to it.

"She's right that the mine abuts the Deep Roads, and that parts of it lie beneath territories that are traditionally considered part of Orzammar," said Morwin. "However, as we all know, the Deep Roads have been sealed for centuries. The only way to access the mine at the present time is from surface lands that inarguably belong to the Arling of Edgehall." Morwin pointed at a red X that marked the entrance to the mine, a hair's breadth away from the thick black line that separated Edgehall from Orzammar. Alistair squinted at the map. He was beginning to understand that borders were a complicated thing. On paper they always seemed so obvious, an unbreachable wall plainly dividing one nation from another. However, whenever he actually went to the places that the maps represented, he found that the boundaries of kingdoms were not nearly so clear as they seemed within the walls of a stifling, dusty library. At times, even the people who lived in those borderlands might not always know what country they were in.

"Then I take it you've come to inform us that you've made progress toward an agreement with the dwarves?" asked Anora. Her tone was impassive, but Alistair knew how badly she wanted the dispute to be resolved in Ferelden's favor. Alistair privately thought it was likely that Orzammar would end up keeping at least the lyrium vein, since nobody but the dwarves could handle and process the stuff. Even so, any share of the precious gems and metals in the mine that Ferelden could retain would go far in replenishing the kingdom's war-depleted treasuries.

"After a fashion," said Morwin. "We've tried everything, Your Majesties. Our best negotiators have been writing letters in support of our case for months, but they've gotten nowhere. We've sent ambassadors to Orzammar, but they've all been turned away. The only thing we have been able to settle on is that no one will work in the mine until this matter is resolved, as a show of good faith from both sides. We've signed a temporary treaty to that effect, but it appears that we will not be able to come to any greater consensus on our own. So I took the advice you gave me at our last meeting, and proposed that Edgehall and Orzammar choose a neutral mediator to hear the arguments of both sides and then hand down a binding decision."

"It's a shame it had to come to this," said Anora. "Even so, it benefits no one if the mine stays idle. Perhaps the outcome of this dispute can still be influenced to Ferelden's advantage. Have you chosen an arbiter?"

"We have. We picked a candidate much more easily than I expected we would, and she accepted the job in exchange for some nominal considerations from both parties. Here, let me show you the contract." Morwin passed a smaller scroll to Anora. She unrolled it and began to read. Her eyes widened as she rapidly scanned the paper, and Alistair's stomach sank. The only time that Anora could not conceal her reactions to the things that happened at court was when the news was truly dire. His mind began to race with an assortment of frightening possibilities, and he resisted the urge to lean in and read over her shoulder.

But Alistar hadn't been imagining anything like what Anora said when she reached the end of the scroll. "Arl Morwin, am I reading this correctly? Have you selected Warden-Commander Elissa Cousland as your arbiter?"

"Are you _serious?_ " Morwin and Anora's heads turned toward Alistair in unison. Morwin looked alarmed, and Anora's slight frown and worried eyes seemed to say, _Stay calm and we'll talk about this later._ Alistair cleared his throat loudly. "I mean, that's an interesting choice."

"It was Edgehall's idea," said Morwin. "The Grey Wardens are well-respected in my arling, and according to the historical record, members of their order have often served as judges in the time between previous Blights. I'll admit I was a bit surprised that Orzammar went along with our suggestion so readily. I would have expected them to hold out for a dwarf. But I understand that Warden-Commander Cousland solved some sort of royal succession conundrum down there for King Bhelen, plus there were all the troops they sent to help bring down the Archdemon. All of that makes them think she'll take their side. Of course, Your Majesties and I both know that's wishful thinking on the dwarves' part. She's Warden-Commander Cousland, after all. She'll always choose her own people in the end."

"We'll see about that," said Alistair. "She has a habit of doing the unexpected."

"If you say so," said Morwin, sounding unconvinced. "Regardless, we couldn't be happier with how the whole thing worked out. Far be it from me to dictate Your Majesties' calendar, but your presence at the negotiations would be most welcome. They will take place at Edgehall Keep in a month's time. It's unlikely that King Bhelen himself will leave Orzammar for this, but having the Fereldan monarchs present would signal to all the parties involved that we do not take the enforcement of our borders lightly."

"We will certainly consider it," said Anora. "Arl Morwin, King Alistair and I must discuss this privately. The chamberlain will send word when we are ready to inform you of our decision."

Morwin bowed and departed. As soon as the door swung shut, Alistair lowered his head into his hands and groaned in frustration. Two years had passed since the night that Alistair and Elissa had kissed in the gardens of the manor house in Amaranthine, since Alistair had poured his heart out to her in a letter and asked her whether there might be any way to reconcile the love he still felt for her with the love he also felt for Anora. He had never received a response. He'd had other correspondence from her, and had even spoken to her on a few brief occasions when duty called her to Denerim - but the letters had dealt with other topics that had nothing to do with his confession, and the visits had been brief and businesslike. Her avoidance of the subject was so total that he could not be sure that she had even received his message. But on those few occasions on which he had seen her, something in her manner told him that she knew all of his secrets and that she was simply choosing not to acknowledge them. He didn't know whether she was trying to spare his feelings by pretending it had never happened, or whether she had given his proposal any thought at all. Her silence could have meant either, or both.

He felt Anora's firm touch on his shoulders, slowly massaging knots of tension away. "I know it's easier said than done, but try not to panic, my king," she said. "Seeing her again was inevitable."

"You're right. I just wish it could have been on our terms instead of someone else's."

"It can't be helped."

"I suppose not." Alistair's head snapped up as a horrifying thought crossed his mind. "Wait. Do you think Arl Morwin and his people know about Elissa and me?"

"Almost certainly. Well, not every detail, but your involvement with the Wardens and your part in ending the Blight is hardly a secret. As for the rest of it, the doomed romance between the King and the Warden-Commander is a common enough rumor all around Ferelden."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. There have been some very popular ballads written about you and your lost love, my king."

"Maker's breath. That's appalling. I wonder if they're any good."

"Not especially. Although I suppose the refrain of 'The Lion and the Laurel' is rather catchy. It gets stuck in my head sometimes."

"How do you know about this and I don't?"

"It's a queen's job to always be informed."

"Well, you might have told me sooner that bards were writing terrible songs about me," Alistair said with mock indignation. Anora, too, had learned to recognize the times when Alistair needed to be reminded of the humor in a situation, just as he so often did for her. Joking around like this had already served to calm him more than anything else she'd done.

"I was waiting for you to really annoy me, so I could break the news by sending you a troupe of minstrels for a command performance." Alistair laughed in spite of himself, and Anora continued. "The point is, Arl Morwin must be banking on your history with Elissa being enough to sway her to Ferelden's side. The stories of your past with her must not have made it to Orzammar. If they had, I can't imagine the dwarves would go along with her appointment so readily."

"I suppose it makes sense that the dwarves wouldn't know." The only time that Alistair had ever been to Orzammar, it had been with Elissa - after he'd told her how he felt, but before they had actually consummated their love. He remembered long, rambling conversations in their borrowed subterranean rooms; kisses stolen in hidden corners of the Deep Roads and the tunnel that led to the Proving grounds; the final desperate fight against Branka and her golems, made even more frightening by the thought of not surviving to give Elissa all the parts of himself he wanted to share with her. The dwarves would have been too focused on their own political turmoil to notice the romantic tribulations of two Grey Wardens. "So what do we do?"

"We go to Edgehall, of course. Morwin is a good enough arl, and a superb military commander, but I don't trust him fully at the negotiation table. As for King Bhelen, he may be a reformer who wants to build stronger ties with the surface, but that doesn't mean he'll give an inch where a prize of this magnitude is concerned. I want this mine for Ferelden, Alistair. In my opinion, it is essential that we help to represent the kingdom's interests in this matter."

Anora's smile was avid, her eyes bright and glittering. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked.

"Nothing. But you aren't the only one who's wanted to talk to Elissa Cousland for a long time now." Alistair would spend the rest of the month wondering exactly what Anora meant by that.


	10. Chapter 10

As Alistair entered the feast hall of Edgehall Keep and walked to the high table with Anora on his arm, he felt even less prepared for this simple evening meal than he had for any other challenge of his reign. In the past, he had always been able to rely on Anora's knowledge and experience to see him through. But although Anora would surely handle the political aspects of this situation with her usual insight and confidence, he knew that when it came to figuring out the best way to deal with Elissa Cousland, she was no more prepared for it than he was.

It had taken the monarchs, their guards, and their attendants more than two weeks of tedious travel to reach Edgehall from Denerim. Even with the fastest horses, the largest and best-appointed carriages, and all of the comforts and convenience that their royal status afforded, it had been a difficult journey. They had departed from Denerim on the West Road, passing through the Bannorn amidst fertile fields and orchards heavy with their ripening harvest. At the abandoned ruins of Lothering, the carefully maintained gravel road gave way to the wide flat stones of the Imperial Highway. They followed the highway around Lake Calenhad and past Redcliffe, where they spent a night enjoying Arl Teagan's hospitality, until it intersected the narrow, rocky mountain path that led to Edgehall Keep. The Edgehall road was in poor condition, and the journey had taken longer than expected. Although they had intended to arrive several days in advance of the formal dinner that would mark the beginning of the negotiations, they had only made it to the keep the evening before. Alistair was sure that their exhaustion was fully evident to the other guests, but he was equally sure that everyone would be too polite to say anything about it.

Arl Morwin was already seated at the high table beside his wife and daughters, and they rose to bow deeply to each guest. Next the castle herald introduced Deshyr Beveleth Stonemarrow and her delegation from Orzammar, all of whom displayed varying levels of discomfort at the vista of sunset-tinged sky over mountain peaks that was visible through the feast hall's floor-to-ceiling windows. Beveleth herself was a stoic woman with greying red hair pinned up in elaborate braids and the strong, rough hands of a craftsperson. She greeted Alistair and Anora with detached politeness. The mere fact that she and her companions had left Orzammar for a meeting on the surface in the first place was proof of how seriously the dwarves took this matter.

Not long after the dwarves had all been seated, the heavy wooden doors that led into the hall swung open again. Alistair's eyes turned toward the entryway faster than anyone else's. His instincts were correct - it was Elissa, wearing a simple but elegant grey tunic and breeches. Dog trotted beside her. She was unarmed and unarmored and still carried herself as if she were the most dangerous person in the keep. In truth, she probably was. He suppressed the urge to rise in her presence - or perhaps to kneel - as she walked up the aisle.

Only one empty chair remained at the high table, between Beveleth and Alistair. Naturally, that was where Elissa went. She gave Alistair and Anora a brief, acknowledging nod as she sat down, then addressed the assembled guests. "Arl Morwin, my thanks to you and all the people of Edgehall for your kind welcome and your hospitality. I've been informed that your cooks have prepared quite a banquet for all of us to share. Let's enjoy the best of what this arling has to offer together before we begin our negotiations in the morning."

The feast commenced. Cooks and servants brought out a constant stream of delicacies representing the cuisine of Ferelden and Orzammar alike. Little by little, everyone relaxed and the hall filled with the pleasant low rumble of Fereldan nobles, dwarves, and Grey Wardens dining and conversing. Alistair nibbled at his food, as much because long experience had taught him to pace himself during feasts as because of Elissa's presence at his side. "As always, it's a pleasure to see you, Warden-Commander," he finally managed to say as they waited for the platters of roast nug that had served as the main course to be cleared away.

"The pleasure is all mine," said Elissa, regarding Anora and Alistair with a steady dark gaze. "I'm sorry that I've been such a poor correspondent lately, Your Majesties. I know it seems a weak excuse, but I really have had a lot on my mind."

 _How much of that has been because of that letter I sent you?_ wondered Alistair. Before he could verbalize that thought, Anora said, "I understand entirely, Warden-Commander. Alistair and I have also been very busy. As much as we regret the complexities of the situation that brings us together, we are grateful for the opportunity to see you again."

"I feel the same," said Elissa. "Even so, I'm a little surprised you made the trip. You traveled the farthest of anyone, and I understand it wasn't an easy journey."

"Being here was worth the effort," said Anora. Unspoken beneath those words was what she and Alistair had agreed on from their journey's beginning: _It's well past time to figure out once and for all where we stand with you, Elissa._

"I'm glad you think so." Elissa lowered her voice and leaned closer to both Alistair and Anora - a maneuver that, owing to their seating arrangement, meant that she ended up half-lying in Alistair's lap. "I was told that you arrived here much later than intended, and that you were quite exhausted when you did. I wish I had known about that sooner. Perhaps I would have been able to render assistance."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but Edgehall Keep's servants took good care of us," said Anora. Alistair closed his eyes and tried not to react to the warmth of Elissa's body where it rested against his, or to think about how easy it would be to bury his face in her hair. "Besides, we were so tired when we arrived that we were hardly suitable company for anyone."

"I'm not so sure about that, Your Majesties. I've wanted to see you both again for a long time now. You should know that I would welcome you no matter how you came."

 _She's flirting with us,_ Alistair realized belatedly. _She is definitely flirting with both of us. We are at this exact moment being flirted with._ Fortunately, before he could say anything foolish, Elissa sat up straight and turned to Beveleth as one of the cooks bellowed out that the next course of mushroom-stuffed trout with barley was about to be served.

Elissa spent the remainder of dinner chatting with everyone at the high table, discussing the upcoming harvest, the news from Orzammar, the latest fashions trickling into Ferelden from Orlais. As they were finishing the dessert course of raspberry tart and sparkling wine, Elissa leaned closer to Alistair and Anora again. "Your Majesties, this has been a lovely dinner, but we have so much more catching up to do. Would you care to join me in my quarters tonight?"

A subtle thrill ran through his body. Elissa wanted to talk. All of his questions were about to be answered, his doubts laid to rest. He was more than ready. He glanced at Anora and she gave him a slight nod. "We would be honored," he said.

Elissa's answering smile was as dazzling as any of the others with which she'd ever favored him. "Wonderful. Meet me there after the next bell."


	11. Chapter 11

At the appointed time, Alistair knocked on the unguarded door of Elissa's bedchamber with Anora by his side. After dinner, while they waited, Anora had been just as distracted and lost in thought as he was. He put his hand on her shoulder and hoped that the simple fact of his presence would be enough to calm her, as hers would have to be for him.

Elissa opened the door within moments and ushered them into the guest rooms that had been reserved for her. They were not nearly as opulent as the ones Arl Morwin had given to the monarchs, but they seemed comfortable enough, with rustic tapestries hanging on the walls and a cozy fire glowing in the fireplace. Dog was sprawled out half-asleep on a rug in front of the hearth, basking in the warmth of the crackling flames. Three carved wooden chairs clustered nearby, with a low table between them that held a tray with wine and a single glass. Whoever had prepared the room for Elissa must not have expected that she would welcome any visitors that night.

The three of them sat down in the chairs. "Thank you for coming to see me tonight," said Elissa. "I'm sure you must still be fatigued from your journey."

"No more so than you," said Anora. "Vigil's Keep isn't any closer to Edgehall than Denerim is."

"The Wardens had other business in the west, so I was already in the area," said Elissa. "But I had quite enough small talk at the feast already. It's well past time that I was direct with you."

Alistair's mouth had gone dry again. "About what?" he asked, already knowing what she meant.

"I got the letter that you sent me after Amaranthine. It's taken me a long time to decide what I wanted, like you said that I should. I wish I had been ready to speak to you about it before now. I know it must have seemed like I was ignoring you."

"I never thought that."

"I gave a lot of consideration to...well, everything. I had to ask myself a lot of questions, and ask some other people for advice as well. Don't worry," Elissa added as she saw the identical expressions of concern on both of the monarchs' faces. "I'd trust my confidants with my life, to say nothing of my secrets. They won't breathe a word of this to anyone else. Talking to them gave me a lot to think about. You know, Alistair, the arrangement you propose isn't necessarily unheard of. It's more common than you might expect in Rivain and Antiva."

Alistair wasn't really sure of what his letter had been proposing at all, but at the mention of Antiva, some things became plain. "You talked to Zevran," he said.

"I did. His advice was invaluable." The fondness he heard in her words provoked an unbidden question - _did she sleep with Zevran, too?_ \- but he forced it out of his mind. Elissa had made him no vows, and whatever she and Zevran might have done was none of his business.

Anora spoke with a gently chiding tone. "You wanted to be direct, Warden-Commander. Alistair and I are more than ready to hear whatever you need to say."

"Sorry. I'm more nervous than I expected." Elissa ran her hands through her hair, and Alistair's heart leapt as he recognized that once-familiar gesture. "I love you," she told him. "You already know that. And I want the same things you said you wanted in that letter. Anora...I am honored by the trust you have placed in me already. Now I'm going to have to ask you for a little more. I've given this a lot of thought, and I agree with Alistair. If I'm going to have anything with him again, I don't want a quick tumble in the hay, or an affair, or just one night together. I want commitment. If I can't have that, I think it's better that Alistair and I have nothing at all. So I don't just want your blessing while we sneak around behind your back, Anora. I want you to be involved."

With slow and deliberate motions, Anora picked up the bottle of wine from the table, uncorked it, filled the glass, and drained its contents in a few long gulps. "You'll have to be more specific about what you mean by 'involved,'" she said in a shaky voice.

"At the very least, I want to get to know you better. The letters have helped, but it's not the same as actually spending time together. Even if we can't be friends, we can try to understand each other. I can already see a little bit of why Alistair loves you. I want to see more. And if you decide that we can be friends after all..." Elissa took a deep breath. "You should know that I'm very attracted to you. I have been for a long time. I just didn't know how to admit it to myself or anyone else until now. In an ideal world, I'd want to be with you, too. At least to try it out and see where it leads. That is, in the admittedly unlikely event that you feel the same."

Silence descended over the room. "Wow," said Alistair. " _Wow_." Before he could think of anything more eloquent to say, Anora made a strangled sound that was half gasp, half choke. Her eyes widened and her hands fluttered up to her mouth. "Anora? What's wrong? I know this is-"

"Not that." The words forced themselves out from between Anora's clenched teeth in a strangled, guttural rumble. "Can't breathe." She tried to stand up, but her knees collapsed under her. Alistair leapt out of his chair and barely caught her before she hit the floor. Up close, he could see the too-rapid flutter of her pulse in her straining neck, the flare of her nostrils as she struggled to draw breath between lips that were turning blue. The bottom dropped out of Alistair's stomach. This was much more than just an intense reaction to Elissa's confessions.

Elissa must have realized the same thing, because she dropped to her knees and studied Anora's pallid face. "Poison," she said, sounding much more matter-of-fact than Alistair could possibly imagine being about that topic. "Probably breathbane. If I'm right about that, I know the antidote, but I'm going to need help."

"Yes, anything, just tell me what to do!" Alistair squeezed Anora's hand and was gratified when she squeezed back. She tried to speak, but only a rattling wheeze came out.

"Don't try to talk, Anora," said Elissa, and stood up. "Dog." The mabari woke immediately from his slumber and scrambled to his feet. "Find Warden Rinaya right away. And make sure she brings her staff." Dog nosed the door open and dashed off down the corridor. "Alistair, watch her while I gather my materials. Keep her calm. Make sure she knows that help is on the way."

Alistair could not have imagined doing otherwise. "Look at me," he said to Anora. "Stay with me. Please." He could not entirely keep a note of fearful pleading out of his voice. Some of Anora's terror left her eyes when Alistair's gaze locked on them, but her breathing was still shallow and ragged and he could feel her grip beginning to slacken. Behind him, he could hear Elissa rummaging through chests and backpacks, swearing continuously under her breath as she gathered the components he knew she took with her everywhere. Elissa was an extraordinarily talented herbalist; Alistair had seen her mix countless effective potions over the years and even cure a poisoned dwarven noble in Orzammar where everyone else had failed. But now that Anora was the one in jeopardy, he couldn't take comfort in her expertise. He cold only envision all the things that might go wrong. He clenched his fist until he felt his own fingernails digging into his palm and silently prayed that Elissa's skills were up to the task.

It felt as if an eternity passed before the door creaked open to admit a young, rumpled-looking, brown-haired elf. She had the Grey Wardens' insignia on her robes and carried a mage's staff. "What does your mabari want with me, Warden-Commander?" she asked.

"Warden Rinaya, Queen Anora has been poisoned," said Elissa as she arranged her tools and supplies on the room's carved wooden desk. Rinaya's eyebrows shot up and she opened her mouth to speak again, but Elissa cut her off. "Don't ask questions right now. You're the best healer in this castle, and I need you to stabilize her."

"I can't reverse the poison's effects," said Rinaya. "I can only maintain her current status."

"I know. That's why I'll make the antidote myself. Do what you can until it's ready."

"At once, Warden-Commander." Rinaya extended her staff above Anora's prone form and began to chant an incantation under her breath. Blurry golden light collected around the crudely faceted jewel at the tip of the staff, and Alistair felt the familiar prickle on the back of his neck that told his templar-trained senses that magic was at work. The light spread out in a fine mesh over Anora's body, and Alistair was pleased to see her eyes regaining a bit of their clarity. But her chest kept heaving and the blue tinge on her lips had spread to her nails and fingertips, and he already knew that Rinaya's magic wouldn't be enough.

"Alistair," said Elissa. "Help me." He couldn't look away from Anora; leaving her side was unthinkable. But Dog shoved up next to him and pressed his head under Anora's limp hand as if to comfort her in Alistair's place, and Elissa said again quietly, "I can't save her without you."

Somehow he let go and rose from the floor to stand next to Elissa at the desk. "Tell me what to do," he said. _Andraste, I hope I'm doing the right thing._

Elissa took over from there. She instructed him with terse, clipped phrases - "Pass me the concentrator agent." "Where's the elfroot?" "Grind up that lifestone with the mortar and pestle. No, into smaller pieces." - and he did exactly as she asked. He would marvel, later on, at how obeying her orders still felt as natural as it had after Ostagar, before either of them could have guessed what awaited them. Sweat beaded on her brow as Alistair passed her the components and she blended them in a flask. The only sounds were Rinaya's soft chanting and Anora's wheezing and Alistair's own rapid pulse pounding in his ears.

At last Elissa said, "I've got it." She held up the steaming flask full of viscous greenish stuff and cautiously carried it over to where Anora lay. "Sit her up." Alistair knelt behind Anora and propped her up into a half-seated position. She was too weak to open her mouth wide enough to drink the antidote on her own, so he gently pulled down on her jaw and let Elissa pour the liquid in.

Anora's reaction to the potion was as sudden and total as her initial poisoning had been. Her breathing hitched, then smoothed out as color returned to her face and she slumped back bonelessly against Alistair's chest. "Thank you," she whispered, and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. Alistair bent to kiss them away and felt them mingling with his own.

Elissa sat back on her heels and let out a heavy sigh of relief. She was shaking. "That will be all, Warden," she said to Rinaya. "And I expect you not to speak a word of this to anyone unless I tell you otherwise."

"You can count on my discretion, Warden-Commander," said Rinaya, standing up and dismissing the spell that surrounded Anora.

"Good," said Elissa with steel in her tone.

As soon as Rinaya was gone, Alistair said in a shaking voice, "This is madness. Every monarch has enemies, but why would anyone want to poison Anora here and now?"

"I don't think Anora was the target," said Elissa. "You saw that the effects of breathbane begin within minutes of consuming it. And as far as anyone in this castle knew, I was going to be alone in my room tonight."

"It was in the wine," said Anora weakly.

"Or maybe it was painted onto the inside of the glass," said Elissa. "Regardless, we know that someone present at these negotiations means me harm. We'll all have to be more careful while I figure this out. Anora, I hope Alistair already warned you that getting too close to me has its hazards." Her grin was pained and joyless. Alistair didn't blame her. He hadn't thought that visiting Edgehall could get any more complicated. He should have known that wherever Elissa Cousland was involved, he would always be proven wrong.


	12. Chapter 12

Anora insisted that the negotiations continue as if nothing had happened. Both Alistair and Elissa had offered to invent a believable excuse that would buy her a few days to recover from the attempted poisoning, but Anora had flatly refused them both. "If we let the poisoner's actions affect us, we risk giving away too much about what we know," she had argued. "We need to carry on and let them wonder why their plan didn't work. The more confused we can make them, the more likely they are to give something away." So she sat at her assigned place in the audience chamber, sickly and pale but as alert as always, dismissing every inquiry with a dutiful smile and saying, "Pickled eel has never agreed with me. I should have known that eating it in a pie wouldn't make any difference."

Alistair, Anora, Arl Morwin and the nobles of Edgehall, and Beveleth and her dwarves gathered around a massive wooden table to present their cases to the Warden-Commander. In consideration to the dwarves, who were clearly discomfited by many aspects of the surface of Thedas that humans took for granted, the negotiations had been relocated from the main hall into a subterranean receiving room without windows. Servants came and went discreetly, bringing food and beverages and taking away the constant stream of scraps and dirty dishes that the participants produced. Dog had been provided with food and water, a huge ox bone to chew on, and a stablehand to take him into a courtyard for periodic walks. It was evident to everyone present that the discussions would last all day. Elissa Cousland was nothing if not thorough.

Arl Morwin argued first on behalf of Ferelden's claim to the minerals, supported by testimony from his scholars and nobles and from Anora. Alistair, who was far from an expert on such matters, was content to listen and to ask the occasional clarifying question, hoping it didn't make him appear too inept. Morwin, Anora, and the scholars who advised them presented similar cases from Ages past, carefully selected as instances in which the people who had discovered the minerals had been awarded the right to the land. One scholar gave a particularly involved speech nearly an hour in duration that, as far as Alistair could determine, contended that because the mine's sole point of access lay well within Fereldan territories, Ferelden legally controlled all access to its contents. In conclusion, Arl Morwin spoke eloquently of the poverty of his lands and the difficult lives that his subjects led. Edgehall had been nearly overrun by darkspawn during the Fifth Blight, and it was still struggling to rebuild. A working mine would transform the arling and change the fortunes of many who were barely scraping out a meager living. The people of Edgehall were prepared to brave the many dangers of the work for the sake of giving their families a better life.

But Beveleth responded with strong arguments of her own. She and the other dwarves brought forth a staggering number of ancient records from the Orzammar Shaperate, dating back to the Ancient Age and thus asserting that Orzammar's claim to all of the territories surrounding the mine long predated Ferelden's discovery of it. In Beveleth's view, the fact that Orzammar had not previously chosen to extract the minerals was immaterial, as was the recently increased difficulty in accessing them. The memories of the Shaperate were permanent and immutable, and thus, so was Orzammar's claim to the land. She also pointed out that humans did not know how to process the lyrium the mine contained; in fact, handling it in its raw form would be actively hazardous for them. Because there was no way of knowing where lyrium deposits might be found, Beveleth thought it best that the dwarves take full control of the mine for the sake of everyone's safety.

Elissa listened carefully, her attention never once wavering despite the density and complexity of the material. Her questions were insightful, her observations wise, her treatment of both sides completely equitable. Despite her assertion that she would have made a poor ruler, to Alistair, she was everything a queen should be. She approached the evidence with total objectivity, though he could see that Arl Morwin's plea for a way to lift his people out of poverty greatly moved her, as did Beveleth's warnings about the dangers that raw lyrium posed to non-dwarves. To Alistair, it seemed as if Elissa might be considering a cooperative venture between Edgehall and Orzammar, in which both parties could share their expertise as well as the profits. He knew that as one of Ferelden's designated advocates, he should want the minerals for his kingdom alone, but he couldn't help feeling that Elissa's way might result in an even better outcome.

The sun was setting by the time everyone had concluded their arguments. Elissa pushed her chair back and rose slowly, stretching out stiff muscles and rolling her neck from side to side. "I've heard everything I need to hear," she said. "I'll spend the rest of the evening deliberating. The heralds will summon you all tomorrow and I'll announce my decision then."

Everyone hastened to follow Elissa's instructions. They stood up with muffled groans and dispersed to take late dinners in their private rooms, to exercise their cramped legs with a stroll around the keep, or simply to await the next day's verdict. Servants hurried in to clean up the leftovers. Alistair hesitated, torn between his desire to remain with Anora and see her safely to their quarters and his equally strong wish to speak with Elissa again. Elissa's face was a mirror of his own uncertainty. But Anora, perceptive as always, kissed the corner of Alistair's mouth and said softly, "Go to her, my king." In her eyes he saw fierce honesty and a full understanding of everything those words might mean. She brushed her fingertips down the length of his arm and walked out the door, steadier on her feet now than she had been when she entered.

Alistair and Elissa regarded each other for long minutes as the servants cleared away the refuse. "Are you all right?" Alistair asked her after the last scullery maid had departed.

"Don't worry about me," said Elissa. "Worry about Anora. Is she really as recovered as she pretends to be?"

"She's tougher than she looks. I'd say she's improving, and largely because you and Rinaya acted so quickly. I didn't get a chance to thank you properly for that last night. So...thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for doing what was right." Elissa crossed the room to him and he let her take his hand. He tried and failed to conceal the shiver that ran through him at her touch, so long denied to him. "You should know that after you left, I sent for one of my most trusted Wardens and told her what had happened. I gave her the wine bottle and the glass and told her to investigate. With luck, she'll be able to tell me more by morning."

"That's why you're delaying your decision until tomorrow, isn't it?"

"That's part of the reason. But I really do need time to think about all of this. There are so many factors to consider." Her determination momentarily gave way to doubt. "I want you to know I haven't forgotten about what we were discussing before we were interrupted. That's another thing I have to consider. Last night made me realize how dangerous it could be for you or Anora to get any closer to me. I couldn't live with myself if I put you at risk again."

"We're at risk already, Elissa. You may have been the assassin's target this time, but do you really think there aren't already hundreds of people who would love to see the king and queen dead? And even if there weren't, being with you is worth all of that danger and more."

He was kissing her again before he had time to second-guess himself, holding her body against his as if that were enough to protect both of them from harm. Loving Elissa and Anora both meant twice as much risk, twice as many chances to have his heart broken again, but he didn't care. Thinking of all the times he'd almost lost Elissa already only made him hold her closer, deepening their kiss as his heart began to race. He knew he had Anora's permission to do this, but he also knew that an unwitting servant or a noble might walk into the audience chamber at any time, which lent it an illicit and entirely unexpected thrill.

"Stop," Elissa eventually said, out of breath, and he did. "Not now. This has to wait until after I've announced my decision. If I'm seen spending too much time with you or the queen, it presents the appearance of favoritism toward Ferelden. I need to maintain my objectivity. But after that..."

"I understand." Reluctantly, he let go of her. He was already painfully, desperately aroused, but if nothing else the last four years had taught him how to be patient.

"There's something else, too. I couldn't bring it up last night, but...If we do this, the three of us can't keep secrets from each other. Alistair, we have to tell Anora about Morrigan's baby."

Alistair didn't bother going through the motions of objecting. He knew Elissa was right, and he had known it for a long time. He owed it to Anora to tell her about the child, even leaving aside the fact that it was technically a potential heir, and probably the only one that either of them would ever produce. Was it shame, inertia, or both that had caused him to hold his tongue for so long? Either way, he knew that this confession would be the most difficult one he had made to her yet - and that was part of what made it so necessary. "You're right," he said. "We do."

"I'm glad you agree." The thin grim line of her lips softened and a playful smile tugged at them. "There's just one more thing. Nookie?"

"Excuse me?"

"In your letter from a few years ago. 'You are cordially invited to an evening of nookie?' What in the world made you decide on that word?"

"Maker's breath, I thought I crossed that out."

"You did. Just not very well. But whatever name you choose to give it, it's an invitation I look forward to accepting very soon."

Later on, Alistair would be able to tell himself that the next words out of his mouth would have been a subtle and charming innuendo rather than the inane babble that usually resulted whenever he tried to be suave with Elissa, because whatever he tried to say was drowned out by a growing rumble of stone on stone. The floor beneath his feet began to shake, and beyond it he sensed another vibration - a vision of misshapen creatures crawling upwards through shadowy tunnels, growling and hissing, wreathed in the scent of corrupted blood. A sudden wave of nausea passed over him and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "Darkspawn," he said.

"I sense them, too," said Elissa. "We need to go." She shook off her own evident distress and ran in the direction of the sound, and it was as easy to follow her as it had ever been. For a moment, they were no longer a commander and a king, no longer ex-lovers who might yet reunite - just a pair of Grey Wardens, charging headlong into danger to confront a formidable foe. As they had been, and as they always would be.


	13. Chapter 13

An unnatural rumbling continued to rattle the stone walls of Edgehall Keep. Alistair, Elissa, and Dog ran toward it. They sprinted down the nearest flight of stairs and, at the bottom, encountered Rinaya and two other Wardens who must have also sensed the darkspawn presence. "Report," said Elissa, coming to a stop in front of them. "What's going on down here?"

"Judging by what I saw from the shadows, a wall in the bottom cellar gave way," said an Orlesian-accented voice from behind Alistair. He startled and bit back a curse as he turned around to see a wiry, silver-haired Warden holding a bow. "There were tunnels hidden behind it. Deep ones. I can't tell how far down they go, but there are definitely darkspawn in them. At least ten of the creatures, maybe more."

"Thank you, Warden Clare," said Elissa. Her eyes moved rapidly around the room and fixed on a corridor that sloped down to the castle's lowest level. "Is that the only entrance to the cellar?"

"There's one more on the northern side of the keep, near the kitchens," said Rinaya.

"Form a barricade at each of those doors. Get help from the castle guard and any Edgehall knights or dwarves who volunteer, but don't let anyone who isn't a Warden get too close to the darkspawn if they charge. I won't have the taint spreading in this keep. Gustav, have somebody fetch my armor and weapons from my quarters. We're clearing out those tunnels."

"I'm going with you," said Alistair, unable to stop the words from leaving his mouth.

The Wardens, who had never known him as anything but a king, looked at him with shock. Elissa, however, must have been expecting this, because she said, "I know better than to try to talk you out of that, Your Majesty. Let's go to the armory and get ready."

Anora met Alistair and Elissa on their way back up the stairs. She matched their quick pace despite her earlier unsteadiness. "Before you ask," she said, "yes, I heard all of that, and no, I'm not going to try to stop you either."

"I never thought you would," said Alistair.

"Good," Anora said as they reached the armory. Alistair wasn't sure what he had expected her to do next, but it certainly wasn't marching over to the cabinets where the armor was stored and putting on a too-large mail shirt and a slightly rusty helmet. He couldn't help remembering the first time that he and Elissa had ever spoken to her, at Arl Howe's estate - _Aren't you a little short for a guard?_ At least this time Anora wouldn't have them both thrown in the dungeon. Probably.

"Anora?" said Elissa in a wary tone. "What are you doing?"

"Manning the barricades." Anora cinched a sword belt around her waist and began testing out the various weapons on the racks, trying to find a blade well-balanced for her small hands. "There are children and elders present in this castle, not to mention all the servants who don't have the faintest idea of how to fight. I may not be able to kill darkspawn single-handedly, but I can rally the troops and get all of these soldiers working together to keep the fighting contained."

Alistair began to object, but Elissa interrupted him. "You didn't argue with us when you heard what we were planning, Anora. We respect you enough to do the same."

"That's wise," said Anora. She settled on a short sword, sheathed it, and crossed to where Alistair stood. "I understand the duties of Grey Wardens as surely as you understand mine as queen. But for Andraste's sake, both of you, come back to me alive." She pulled him into a fierce kiss that seemed to go on forever. When it finally ended, leaving him slightly dazed, Anora moved closer to Elissa and murmured, "And for that matter…"

Alistair watched in astonishment as Elissa set her hands on Anora's hips and Anora's arms went around Elissa's neck and their lips met as if they had been made to fit that way. "Um," said Alistair as the two women slowly separated. "Have I missed something obvious again?"

Elissa turned to Alistair with a swollen smile that said she'd been expecting this for a long time. "Your wife has been writing me some really interesting letters."

"Evidently so," said Alistair. Then the Wardens came back with Elissa's armor, sword, and shield, and Anora made herself scarce after giving Alistair and Elissa one more meaningful glance over her shoulder. Elissa immediately shifted her focus toward donning her gear, putting kaddis and a wickedly spiked collar on Dog, and discussing tactics for the fight ahead. Alistair could not put Anora's words and actions out of his mind so easily. He hadn't come to Edgehall expecting to fight - even if he had, his ceremonial royal armor was more decorative than practical now anyway - so he wandered around testing out swords and shields and scrounging up various bits of mail and plate. One of the Wardens tracked down a spare arming doublet that more or less fit him. He put it on, displeased by the way that it pinched him under the arms and by the knot of tension in his belly.

He had chosen his weapons and assembled a mostly functional suit of armor when he heard Elissa say, "Here, let me." She helped him into his breastplate and gorget and pauldrons and vambraces and all the other things meant to keep him from harm, adjusting the buckles as best she could to make it all fit. As she placed a borrowed helmet on his head, he was acutely aware of how his mishmash of borrowed items must have looked next to her polished, gleaming silverite plate - like a little boy playing at war, oblivious to the danger he was about to put himself and his companions in. He hoped he would fight more competently than his appearance suggested. The worry he felt must have been evident on his face. When they were out of sight of the others, Elissa kissed him lightly - a challenging proposition with two full suits of armor in the way - and said, "You know there's no one in Thedas I'd rather fight darkspawn with, don't you?"

"I didn't know there were so many people lining up to give it a try," said Alistair.

"Oh, you know. Bards make everything sound more glamorous than it actually is." She shrugged with a loud clank of metal on metal. "Let's go give them something new to write songs about. Just like old times, right?"

"Just like old times," Alistair echoed. He hefted the round metal shield he had chosen, checked once again that his sword was secure at his belt, and followed Elissa at a brisk trot out into the corridor and toward the cellar doors. Despite her forced nostalgia, he had a feeling that after this fight, very few things would ever be just like old times again.


	14. Chapter 14

In the end, six Wardens and one mabari descended to face whatever was about to come out of the tunnels: Clare and a young dwarven woman with a pair of daggers, whose tense posture and nervous laughter betrayed her inexperience in battle. Rinaya and another elven mage, this one with Dalish tattoos inked black and green around his eyes and an ironbark staff tipped with a wicked blade and a curl to his lip that suggested he was spoiling for a fight. Elissa in the lead with Dog at her side. And Alistair. Elissa had decided that they couldn't spare any additional Wardens to the task; seven had come with her to Edgehall, and she had stationed the remaining three at the barricades to serve as a second line of defense in case things went badly wrong. He told himself that they had prevailed against greater opposition with a smaller force before, but it wasn't enough to quiet his growing fears. Seeing Elissa and Anora take up arms against the same foe reminded him of how much he had to lose.

The deepest cellars of Edgehall Keep took full advantage of the chilly mountain climate to store and preserve bushels of vegetables, wheels of cheese, and crocks of butter. When Alistair exhaled, his breath hung in the air before him like a fog bank in miniature. Past the once-neat stacks of provisions that had been scattered by the earlier shaking, a metal-banded door hung partially off its hinges. Clare crept forward to investigate and, once he was satisfied that no ambush lay in wait on the other side, motioned for the other wardens to advance.

Beyond the door, the floor sloped downward into a smaller, colder cellar, next to the bare rock of the mountain on which the castle had been built and distant enough from any hearth to keep its contents frozen. Blocks of ice had toppled from their once-tidy stacks and now lay strewn about the floor. Butchered hogs and sides of beef hung from hooks in the low ceiling. A gaping hole had opened in the wall on the far side of the room, with rubble and plaster strewn all around it, revealing a tunnel in the rock behind the crumbled bricks. Alistair couldn't tell whether it was natural or manmade, or how far down it went.

He smelled the darkspawn first, a stench of carrion and filth and old blood that lanced through the frigid air. Then he heard their clattering armor and their shuffling footsteps and their guttural growls echoing up out of the mountain's depths. Elissa signaled for the Wardens to stop. Alistair glimpsed motion at the mouth of the tunnel, and stared as a band of genlocks and hurlocks emerged into the cellar. Behind them, two emissaries clutched gnarled staffs with magic crackling around the tips. From farther back in the caverns came the full-throated bellow of an ogre. Dog whimpered. "Oh, come on, that's not even fair," said Alistair.

Elissa didn't respond. "Kill the mages first," she said. "King Alistair and I will draw the ogre out." The darkspawn were readying their weapons and crossing the cellar toward them; there was no cover or concealment, no sense in doing anything but joining the battle. Elissa raised her sword and cried, "For the Wardens!" Then the enemy was upon them.

The arrows flew first, from Clare's bow and from a few darkspawn archers taking cover inside the tunnel. One whistled past Alistair's head and embedded itself in a large ham, and he deflected a second with his shield. Clare's next shots flew directly at an emissary's throat, but the creature had managed to get its wards up and the projectiles disintegrated before they could cause any harm. Rinaya was building the same magical defenses for the Wardens, weaving shields of white light that made the air around Alistair crackle as if a storm were approaching. The other mage shouted shrilly in Elvhen and launched a massive fireball from the end of his staff. The flames slammed into the darkspawn and they screamed as they burned.

The steam that filled the cellar following the abrupt introduction of so much fire to so much ice meant that Alistair almost didn't see the genlock that charged him with a battleaxe. He couldn't raise his shield in time and felt his pauldron absorb the blow; he knew his arm would be a mass of bruises the next day, but without the armor he likely would have lost the limb. The genlock's attack had brought it inside Alistair's reach. Reflexively, he thrust his sword through a gap in its armor and between its ribs. The blow was too hasty to be truly forceful, but the genlock hissed at the shallow wound and staggered backwards. Alistair pressed the advantage and lunged at the same weak spot he'd found before. This time, the creature fell and did not get up.

Alistair hastily surveyed the battle that raged around him, trying to determine where he was most needed. He counted four other genlocks that had closed to melee distance. More of them continued to pour out of the tunnel. They were even more outnumbered than he had feared. Dog ran past him, snarling, and knocked one of the archers to the ground, ripping and tearing at its throat with his jaws as his massive paws held it down. He glimpsed a flicker of green in his peripheral vision; one of the emissaries was gesticulating and waving its staff in preparation for what every one of his senses told him would be a powerful spell. He reached deep within himself and found the small but unquenchable flame of faith he had learned to rely on at times like these - faith in the Maker, yes, but also faith in Elissa and in everything she would do. It had been a long time since he'd had cause to use his templar abilities, longer still since he'd taken any lyrium to enhance them. But when he lifted one hand toward the heavens and willed a beam of utter _denial_ at the emissary, the magic it was gathering abruptly fizzled out and the shimmering barrier around it popped like a soap bubble. Half a heartbeat later, one of Clare's arrows found its mark in the emissary's chest. The creature spun around, collapsed, and died.

There was no time to celebrate. A shout went up from the other side of the cellar as a hurlock burst out of the tunnel and charged at the Wardens. Foam flew from its lips as it screamed in incoherent, berserk rage. The first blow from its mace caught the dwarf with the daggers square in her chest and sent her sprawling into a wall. Clare shot another arrow into the hurlock's upper chest, but it hardly noticed the injury. With a few long, loping strides it closed the distance to Clare and swung its mace again, smashing the spiked head into his unarmored face. He collapsed without a sound. The hurlock had never stopped running deeper into the castle.

"Stop that darkspawn!" Elissa shouted as she decapitated a genlock with a swing of her sword. "Don't let it breach the barricades!" The Dalish mage, who had been trading spells with the remaining emissary for some time now, wheeled and began lobbing firebolts at the hurlock's back as he pursued it out of the cellar. The dwarf with the daggers picked herself up, grimacing, and limped after her foe. A few genlocks followed in the rampaging hurlock's wake. Alistair heard shouts from the upper levels of the castle, accompanied by the sound of weapons being drawn, and fought back the urge to rush to the barricades. The ogre's roar was closer now, and he knew that he had to trust the other Wardens and the soldiers to protect the rest of the keep.

The second emissary was tiring, its spells becoming erratic and weak. Alistair dispelled its magic, then bull-rushed it with his shield raised, knocking it over. His second strike brought the shield's edge down on the prone creature's neck, and it spasmed violently and died. Something else let out a death rattle beside him, and he turned toward the sound to see Elissa and Dog finishing off the last of the archers. All of the darkspawn in the cellar were dead or dying, but Alistair knew that the worst was yet to come. He felt Rinaya's magic wrapping around him again, healing his scrapes and bruises and filling his body with an unnatural but welcome burst of renewed energy. Elissa met his eyes and said, "Get ready."

Then the ogre burst through the wall in a shower of rock that sent them all sprawling to the floor.

Alistair got up slowly as the dust settled, battered and bruised again but pleased to discover that his borrowed armor had taken the brunt of the ogre's charge. Dog had closed his jaws on the back of the ogre's ankle and was violently shaking his head back and forth. Elissa was already on her feet, approaching the creature with her sword raised. Rinaya had not been so lucky. As she struggled to free herself from the rocks that had landed on her, the ogre seized her in one of its huge, meaty hands. Its other fist began to pummel her relentlessly, easily breaking through the feeble magic barriers she tried to erect.

He'd seen the inevitable outcome of this tactic often enough to know that they had to free Rinaya as quickly as possible. Screaming, heedless of his own safety, he rushed at the ogre's flank and began slashing and stabbing any part of it that he could hit. Elissa did the same - until she noticed a stack of barrels that had remained miraculously upright during the fight. Alistair shouted himself hoarse, doing everything he could to keep the ogre's attention focused on his chaotic flailing, as Elissa climbed the barrels and launched herself into the air sword-first. Her blade cut deeply into the ogre's wrist with all the force of her leap behind it. It keened in pain and dropped Rinaya, who scurried away, recovering her staff and tracing hasty sigils in the air to heal and shield everyone anew.

The ogre knew now that Alistair and Elissa were the real threat, and attacked them accordingly. It was what he had wanted - during the Blight, they'd won many battles by enticing the enemy to waste its energy fruitlessly battering at Alistair's shield and armor while Zevran or Leliana or Elissa herself did the real damage - but he wasn't as young or practiced as he once had been, and he had much more to lose now than ever before. They ceaselessly circled and jabbed at the creature, ducking under each sweep of its fists and dodging the huge chunks of rock that it frequently hurled at them. Dog nipped at its heels, further dividing its attention. The ogre was slowing and weakening, bleeding constantly from dozens of cuts, but the Wardens were no better off. Every time Alistair moved he felt the deep sharp tug of cracked ribs and the lingering ache in his leg where one of the ogre's boulders had grazed it. Elissa was breathing heavily, blood slowly oozing down her face from her lacerated scalp, and he knew that it was only Dog's loyalty to her that kept him in the fight as he tired. Rinaya's stamina was obviously flagging as well. They had to end the fight before one of them made a careless and fatal mistake.

Elissa knew it, too. Her eyes met Alistair's from across the battlefield and they both steeled themselves for a final, desperate effort. He felt another surge of Rinaya's energizing magic and rushed at the ogre's blind side, not knowing how long her spell would last. With all his strength, he smashed his shield into the back of the ogre's leg, then chopped at its hamstring with the sword in his other hand. The ogre crumpled to one knee, no longer able to bear its full weight.

It was precisely the opening he had wanted to give Elissa, and she took it. She let out a war cry and launched herself into the air again, landing on the ogre's bowed head and driving her sword into the back of its neck. He knew it was dead from the way it went boneless and twitching as she drove the blade home, and shouted triumphantly - just as he realized that the momentum of her strike had unintentionally sent the ogre's limp body falling directly toward him. He barely had time to cry out in alarm and raise his shield before everything went abruptly dark.


	15. Chapter 15

Alistair awoke to the sensation of a great weight being lifted off of him and a wet tongue licking his face. He groaned and tried to move away from Dog's stinking breath, but a pair of hands gently pressed him back into the hard ground. "Hold still, Your Majesty," said Rinaya. Someone tipped a healing potion into his mouth and he grimaced at its bitter taste. Magic enfolded him again, and he felt his ribs knitting back together and his other injuries vanishing, leaving behind the vague disquiet and total enervation he had come to associate with powerful healing spells. "Rest and let it finish working."

She sounded so calm that he assumed the fight must be over. He lifted his head but saw only the ogre's massive, stinking corpse sprawled out next to him. "Did we-" he began to say.

"The darkspawn are all dead," said Elissa. Her face, half-covered in dried blood and wearing an expression caught somewhere between concern and relief, appeared in his field of vision. She put an arm around his shoulders and helped him to sit up. A wave of dizziness swept over him and he closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass.

The events of the battle were coming back to him now. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered the hurlock that had broken through their lines of defense, fought off terrible visions of Anora dead - or worse, corrupted. "And is Anora-"

"I'm here." Alistair's eyes snapped open as Anora entered the cellar, wearing her oversized mail shirt and cautiously skirting the piles of dead darkspawn that had accumulated around the doorway. "A few of those creatures made it up the stairs, but the barricades held. The Wardens guided us well."

"Thank the Maker you're all right." As she drew closer, he held up his bloody hands to urge her to stop. His thoughts were consumed by images of her beautiful, worried face transforming into a ghoul's. "Don't touch me."

"Later," Anora agreed. "But I had to know you were alive."

"Oh, I'm fairly certain that if I were dead, it wouldn't hurt this much," he said cheerfully as he let Elissa help him up. Looking around, he saw that defending the keep from the darkspawn had come at a high price. Every Warden he could see was injured, some of them seriously. Rinaya was casting healing spells and administering poultices even as she struggled against her own exhaustion. Clare's body lay against one wall, covered with a piece of canvas. Another human corpse shot full of darkspawn arrows lay just beyond the dead ogre in a crumpled heap of mage's robes, clutching a splintered staff. "Poor bastard," he said under his breath.

He was already in the process of crouching down to close the mage's eyes when he realized, _This is all wrong._ The only other mage he had seen fighting in the cellar had been the Dalish elf with the fireballs, who was now slumped against a barrel clutching his own mangled arm and sobbing, his tattoos standing out starkly against his pale and frightened face. "Elissa?" he said, and indicated the dead man. "This mage isn't one of yours, is he?"

"No," she said, kneeling down next to the body and searching it with brisk, cautious motions. "He's not a Circle mage either, judging by the robes."

"An apostate, then?" It made no sense. What would an apostate be doing in the middle of a fight between Wardens and darkspawn? And how had he gotten into the castle in the first place?

"If he's an apostate, he's a rich apostate. Or he would have been if he'd lived to spend this." Elissa held up a bulging leather purse she'd taken from somewhere under the dead man's robes and tossed it to Alistair. He caught it, felt its weight, and peeked inside. It held several fistfuls of raw, uncut precious stones - a substantial windfall for anyone, let alone a rebel mage without support from a Circle.

Alistair set the purse down next to the body. Elissa was frowning at the cavernous hole from which the darkspawn had emerged. "Look at this," she said. "At first I thought the darkspawn knocked this wall down on their way out. But if that were the case, most of the rubble from the wall would be in the cellar, and it isn't. Most of it got blasted farther down into the tunnels. The only way that could have happened…"

"...is if someone broke through from the cellar side," said Anora, who had been listening in.

"Do you think the apostate did it?" asked Alistair.

"I don't see who else could have," said Elissa. "That settles it. Alistair, we need to go into those tunnels and find out what's going on here."

"Why me?" asked Alistair, more conscious than ever of his dented armor and spreading bruises and the nicks in the blade of his borrowed sword.

"Because, believe it or not, you're probably the least injured Warden in Edgehall Keep right now, even though an ogre fell on you twenty minutes ago. It would appear that people become really generous with their healing potions when the King of Ferelden gets hurt. And seeing as how you're unlikely to let me go alone, you seem like the right man for the job. That is, provided the queen doesn't object."

"He can hardly be in more danger than he's been in already today," said Anora.

"Great, and now we've tempted fate by saying that," said Alistair. "But you're right. I'm not letting you go alone. So, uh, onward into the scary cave. I guess."

He gathered up his sword and shield as Elissa left the other Wardens with instructions to come after them in the event of any commotion or if neither she nor Alistair came out of the cavern by the next bell. Dog made a perfunctory effort at coming along, but seemed relieved when Elissa told him to stay with Anora; he was just as exhausted as everyone else. Alistair and Elissa took lit torches from a slightly dazed castle guard and cautiously picked their way over piles of rubble to descend into the caverns. The enormous hole in the earth that they entered seemed to have formed naturally, and wound deeper down toward the heart of the mountain than either of them intended to go. Many smaller burrows, which appeared to have been dug or at least enlarged by humans or dwarves, branched off from it. Alistair had expected they would be inching through narrow crawlspaces, and it surprised him that almost every side tunnel that they entered was tall enough for him to walk through without stooping. "This must be part of the caverns Arl Morwin's people discovered," Alistair said. "I didn't know they stretched all the way to the keep."

"As far as anyone can tell, they undermine most of the arling," said Elissa. "Do you think everyone would be making this much fuss over an eight-foot hole in someone's cow pasture?"

"I suppose not." The light from Alistair's torch flickered over the complex web of tool marks etched into the walls and ceiling. "Someone has been doing a lot of digging down here."

"I think I know why," said Elissa as the passage they were walking through curved and then widened out into a dead-end cave. Partially excavated gems glittered in the rocky walls around them. The tools of an active mining operation were neatly stacked and organized nearby: protective helmets, shovels, pickaxes, unlit lanterns, enormous buckets, even an abandoned half-eaten lunch that had long since gone stale.

"Weird," said Alistair. "I thought Edgehall and Orzammar agreed that no one was supposed to be working down here until the border dispute was resolved."

"They did. And some of these excavations are recent. Someone hasn't been holding up their end of the bargain."

"Judging by these tools, it was the dwarves." Alistair held up a pickaxe and pointed at the maker's mark on its head - the same coat of arms that Beveleth Stonemarrow and many of her companions proudly displayed as the heraldry of their house.

"I'm not sure that's the whole story. If it were just the dwarves mining down here, why would they go to the trouble of digging a tunnel tall enough for humans to walk through?"

"Good point. So where does that leave us?"

"I'm not sure." Elissa had been pacing around the cavern, but now she paused and took a deep breath to center herself. "I don't sense any more darkspawn nearby. Do you?"

Alistair concentrated, but felt none of the sickening, bone-deep wrongness that had overwhelmed him earlier. "No. I think they're all gone. For now."

"Good. I've seen enough." She took the pickaxe he was holding. "This might be useful as evidence later."

"Evidence of what?"

"Like I said, I have a lot think about. Let's go. I'll have the Wardens seal the entrance behind us to keep anything else from getting in or out." They trudged back toward the mouth of the cavern with Elissa in the lead. "Thank you for fighting alongside me today, and for watching my back. I don't want to think about what might have happened if you hadn't been here."

"I was only doing my duty," said Alistair, feeling awkward without knowing why.

"No, you weren't. It stopped being your duty after your coronation. You would have been well within your rights to retreat to a safe distance for the sake of preserving your life and the line of succession, but that's not what you did. You put yourself in harm's way to protect others. You acted like a Warden, not a king. Anora did, too. It's just who both of you are." She stopped and turned back to look him in the eye. "And that's part of the reason I want both of you so badly."

It took Alistair a moment to decide what to say to that. He ran his fingertips across her battered, bloody face and tipped her chin up into another brief, clumsy kiss. "You're driving me mad," he said softly. "Whatever's going on here, I hope you figure it out soon, so we can...Well. What you said you wanted before."

Elissa gave him a lopsided grin. "That makes two of us. Or maybe three."

Alistair took her hand and held it until they could see the entrance to the caverns. The Wardens were already beginning to move the rubble away, and it wouldn't do to have them asking too many questions. "After you, my lady," he said with a smile, gesturing dramatically at the newly cleared path. She curtsied, her armor making a sound like pots and pans rolling down a staircase, and walked toward the exit. He saw the precarious pile of rocks, its balance disturbed by the Wardens' clean-up efforts, beginning to topple just as Elissa approached it. It was already too late to stop it from tipping over. He shouted out a warning, but it was too late for that, too. She saw the falling rubble, tried and failed to get out of the way, and cried out sharply before the sound was cut off by a small boulder that struck her in the chest and drove her down into the cold, rocky ground.

Somehow Alistair was the first to reach her. Somehow he shifted the rock off of her prone form, although he had no idea where he found the strength to lift it. Elissa lay very still, her breastplate caved in where the stone had hit it. A small trickle of blood emerged from the corner of her mouth. He couldn't tell whether she was breathing. He grabbed her limp hand and saw that Anora was also kneeling at Elissa's side, holding her other hand as worriedly as Alistair himself, heedless of any danger posed by the precarious rocks or the darkspawn blood or what anybody else might think. "Maker, no," he said. "Elissa, you can't be-"

Before he could finish his sentence he heard a loud crack and smelled ozone. A tiny spark of purple magic appeared near the center of Elissa's chest and quickly spread to envelop her entire body. Beneath his armor he felt the hairs on his arms standing on end as the spell flowed over her. Her eyes snapped open, rolled back in her head momentarily, and then refocused as she inhaled harshly and noisily. "Andraste and the Maker in a fucking manure wagon," she said.

All at once, the Wardens realized that if Elissa was able to blaspheme, she had to be alive. They erupted into shouts of relief and calls for a healer. Anora slumped back, blinking away tears. Alistair squeezed Elissa's hand even tighter and said, "I thought you were-"

"It'll take more than that to kill me. There's too much left for me to do." Elissa forced the words out through gritted teeth. She groped around her own neck until her fingers closed on the fine silver chain of a necklace and teased it out from beneath her armor. "Lifeward amulet. Don't leave home without it." She loosened her grasp and the now-inert pendant whose magic had saved her life dropped down to land upon her ruined armor with a muffled clink. It gleamed bright and crimson in the darkness of the cave: a jeweled red rose surrounded by the runes of the protective enchantment, the symbol she had chosen to preserve her when everything else failed.


	16. Chapter 16

Although Elissa had initially asserted that she was on the verge of a decision, three full days passed before she convened the delegates again. Alistair wasn't sure if the darkspawn attack had changed her conclusions, or if she wanted to give herself and others more time to recover, or if it was a little of both. Regardless, everyone made the most of the unexpected pause in negotiations. Arl Morwin arranged for healers from the local chantry and mages from the nearest Circle to come to the keep and attend to the wounded. Under their ministrations, the many injured Wardens, soldiers, and dwarves made substantial progress toward recovery.

The day after the darkspawn attack, the Revered Mother of the Edgehall chantry presided over funeral rites for three people who had died in defense of the keep: Warden Clare, a soldier of the palace guard, and another Warden who had succumbed to her wounds a few hours after the battle. One of Beveleth's warriors had also given her life in the fight, but her body was entrusted to House Stonemarrow for burial in Orzammar in accordance with dwarven customs. Anora, ever curious, inquired discreetly with the Wardens about what would become of the dead apostate mage, and learned that his corpse had already been hastily and privately burned.

The funeral was the only time that Alistair saw Elissa in the days between her brush with death at the mouth of the tunnel and the resumption of negotiations. As the Revered Mother recited the traditional verses of bereavement from the Chant of Light and a sister lit the pyre, Elissa's eyes met Alistair's for a moment through the rising flames. He longed to run to her, to comfort her as she mourned, but he knew that wasn't what she wanted. Elissa still needed to appear above reproach, especially now in the face of unexpected turmoil. He hoped that when the time was right, she would still want to finish what they had begun.

After the funeral, the Wardens who were healthy enough to work took on the task of removing the darkspawn corpses from the cellar and burning them, rebuilding the fallen wall, and cleaning up the tainted blood. Alistair pitched in without being asked. The other Wardens were initially shocked to see the king of Ferelden performing manual labor alongside them, but they still welcomed his aid. He was glad for the opportunity to occupy his time, to clear his mind and keep himself from dwelling on thoughts of Elissa, second-guessing everything that had happened between them and daydreaming about everything he intended to do. When Arl Morwin told the Wardens to take any food they could salvage, knowing that no one else in Edgehall would want to eat it for fear of the taint, Alistair joined in the feast that resulted. For one unexpected night, he was a Warden again, eating and drinking and cracking jokes alongside his comrades in arms. Only Elissa's presence could have made it better, but she did not attend. She stayed in her quarters, deliberating, planning her next move. 

Anora took advantage of the lull in activity to focus on her own recovery. After a day of bedrest she was bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked again, and emerged from her room to mingle with the people of Edgehall and the other guests. On the night that Alistair dined with the Wardens, she was lying awake in their bed when he finally tiptoed through the door, well-fed and tipsy. They turned to each other in wordless agreement and made desperate, passionate love, both of them consumed by the same terrible thought: _I almost lost you._ They did not speak of Elissa at all.

On the fourth day, a steward brought the news that the Warden-Commander was ready to announce her decision. After the midday meal, everyone gathered in the same audience chamber in which they had made their arguments. The unexpected violence of the darkspawn attack had shattered the formal calm of the negotiations, and the nobles of Edgehall and the dwarves of Orzammar alike now regarded each other with distrustful caution. Many warriors from each faction still walked with crutches, or wore slings on their arms or bandages on their heads. Elissa, who had already been waiting in the room long before anyone else came in, had dark circles under her eyes and a grim set to her jaw. Dog paced in tight circles around her.

When everyone was seated, Elissa began immediately. "My apologies to all of you for the delay in rendering my decision. As I'm sure you can understand, the darkspawn attack introduced additional factors to the situation that I had not previously considered. Foremost among them was the discovery that despite the accord that Edgehall and Orzammar signed, someone has been working in the mine. A lot of someones, in fact. And recently." From beneath her chair she pulled out the pickaxe that Alistair had retrieved from the mines and dropped it on the table in front of Beveleth with a heavy thud. "My Wardens found this in the tunnels while ensuring there were no more darkspawn lying in wait. King Alistair can testify to the extremely active mining operation from which we removed it. This maker's mark is the seal of House Stonemarrow, isn't it?"

Beveleth averted her eyes and said, "I cannot deny that it is."

"I don't know how you got workers down there and I'm not going to ask. But I know you broke the treaty. I also know that you're the one who tried to poison Queen Anora four nights ago."

The room erupted in shouts. Arl Morwin leapt out of his chair to menace Beveleth, who shrank away from him in terror. His words were lost amidst the echoing cacophony of the chamber, but the outrage on his face and his raised fist were enough for Alistair to get the message. Some of Morwin's knights had their hands on the hilts of their weapons, and the dwarves were equally ready to defend their leader. Anora's fingers dug into Alistair's forearm as she leaned back from the commotion in alarm. It was Dog who defused the situation, jumping in between Morwin and Beveleth and growling in the arl's face until he sat down and motioned for his knights to do the same. The noise faded to a low, displeased rumble.

Beveleth had gone pale, her mouth a thin tight line. "I did nothing of the sort to your queen."

"Not intentionally, no," said Elissa. "You had no way of knowing she would be visiting me that night, or that she would drink the wine you poisoned instead of me. No, I was your target all along, wasn't I?" She stalked closer to Beveleth's chair. "House Stonemarrow supported Lord Harrowmont during Orzammar's succession crisis. I was there. I remember. None of his allies cared at all about developing good relations with the surface. I'll bet you only came here because King Bhelen twisted your arm into doing it. But as long as the mine keeps producing revenue and you don't have to share it, you don't care about what Bhelen wants, do you? You figured that if you poisoned me, negotiations would break down and you could go back to excavating everything right out from under Ferelden with none of us the wiser."

Beveleth's lower lip was trembling slightly. "You can't prove any of this."

"I can't, but Warden Robin can." Elissa pointed to a tall, dark-haired, bronze-skinned Warden leaning calmly against the wall of the chamber.

"I deal in poisons for the Grey Wardens," Robin said. "The Warden-Commander asked me to analyze the substance in question. I swear to you on my honor as a Warden that the wine contained a variety of breathbane poison made with deep mushroom and venom from a species of spider whose habitat is adjacent to the Deep Roads. This recipe isn't really used by anybody but the Orzammar Carta. Most people are too polite to say it out loud, but it's a bit of an open secret that House Stonemarrow has close ties to the Carta. Isn't it, Warden-Commander?"

Silence filled the audience chamber until Morwin said triumphantly, "That settles it, then. Ferelden would never cede its territory to a gang of admitted liars and assassins, even if Orzammar had not wilfully violated our treaty."

"Not so fast," said Elissa. She reached beneath her chair again and produced the apostate mage's personal effects: the broken staff, the bloody robes, the purse full of gems that she poured out onto the table. "The Wardens found these items in the cellars, on the body of an apostate mage. Something tells me he wasn't wandering around Edgehall Keep for his health. I think somebody let him in and paid him to ensure that the wall would just so happen to fall down and show off the dwarves' illicit mining operation while I was here to find out about it. What do you think about that, Arl Morwin?"

"An interesting theory, Warden-Commander. It's a pity that the mage in question died before he could name his employer. We will never know for certain. But we _do_ know that the dwarves-"

Elissa cut him off. "Don't play coy with me, Arl Morwin. Do you really expect me to believe that Edgehall didn't break the treaty, too? Care to explain why dwarves would bother digging tunnels sized for humans? Or why whoever paid the apostate did it in gems that came out of the same mine you claim that none of your people entered? Or how you knew the dwarves were in the mine in the first place if you hadn't been down there too?"

"This is preposterous. You have no way of proving that I had anything to do with actions that my subjects may or may not have undertaken."

"Perhaps I don't. But if you were an honorable man, I wouldn't have to." Elissa's anger had sublimated into something quieter and infinitely more terrifying. "There were children in this castle when the darkspawn attacked. _Your_ children, and others', and people who have never lifted a sword in their lives. Your subjects, Arl Morwin. The people who pledged their fealty to you, and whom you swore to protect. Four good men and women gave their lives defending them on your behalf. Have the decency to respect their sacrifice by telling me the truth."

Morwin was looking at the floor. "I didn't know there were darkspawn in the tunnels," he said, almost inaudibly.

"But you knew the mine was dangerous. You told me so yourself. And if you didn't care about that, then what other important things don't you care about?" Elissa looked between Beveleth and Morwin. "Both of you conveniently forgot about the treaty you had signed, as well as your honor, the instant you saw a chance to make money. Quite frankly, I wouldn't trust either one of you with digging latrine pits at Weisshaupt Fortress with the First Warden and the High Constable supervising your every move, let alone with administering a silverite mine in contested territory. So I've made my decision."

Elissa produced a thick sheaf of tattered, yellowing parchments. Alistair inhaled sharply as he recognized the ancient Grey Warden treaties that had sent them all across Ferelden in search of allies. "I've spent the past three days studying these treaties. I've learned that during a Blight or a Thaw, the treaties that the Wardens signed with both Orzammar and Ferelden - Edgehall included - entitle us to expropriate any lands in which darkspawn activity has been detected, and to hold them until we deem them fully cleansed of the taint. I don't think anyone can dispute that the mine in question fits that description. So in keeping with the agreements by which all of us are bound, I'm claiming this mine for the exclusive use of the Grey Wardens."

A dissatisfied murmur grew as Morwin and Beveleth crowded in around Elissa's table to see the wording of the treaties for themselves. Anora moved closer to peer over Morwin's shoulder as well - but Alistair could tell by the almost imperceptible twitch of her lips as she read that she was already disposed to believe Elissa's claim, and that against all odds she liked what she heard. He caught Elissa's eye as she stepped back to give the others space to read, and saw that she was also suppressing a delighted grin. She was proud of this one, and she'd earned the right to be. Taking such bold action on behalf of the Grey Wardens had completely distracted everyone from Beveleth's botched assassination attempt, which might have caused a war in other circumstances. Now, both Ferelden and Orzammar would be so busy trying to grab their own piece of the Wardens' pie that the slight would eventually be forgotten thanks to Anora's complete recovery. Alistair knew that none of them had any intention of drawing attention to it again. War was the last thing that anyone in Thedas needed right now.

It took almost until the next bell for Morwin and Beveleth to finish reviewing the treaties and to ask all of the questions that resulted. However, by that time both of them seemed fully convinced that Elissa's interpretation was correct. "Then I suppose our business here is concluded," said Beveleth, a note of despondency creeping into her voice. Morwin looked equally dejected.

"Not yet," said Elissa. "As I'm sure you are aware, there are nowhere near enough Wardens in Ferelden to work a mine of this size alone. I'll send some qualified Wardens here to serve as administrators and handle the finances, of course, but for most of the day-to-day operations we'll have to hire local workers. I'm given to understand that there are a lot of people in Edgehall who aren't afraid to do hard work in exchange for generous wages. Isn't that right, Arl Morwin?"

Morwin was wise enough to recognize the magnitude of the gift he'd just been handed. "Yes, Warden-Commander," he said without hesitation. "You'll find an able labor force here."

"Good," said Elissa, and turned to Beveleth. "That leaves the matter of the lyrium veins. Deshyr Beveleth, you were correct to point out that no one outside Orzammar is capable of processing lyrium. I propose an arrangement that will benefit you and keep my Wardens and Arl Morwin's subjects safe. If Orzammar will send qualified lyrium smiths to work with the raw material, you will share in the profits after the Grey Wardens have taken what we need for our own mages. You will also control the sale of excess lyrium as you see fit. Such is, after all, the traditional right of your people. What do you say?"

Beveleth frowned and crossed her arms, unwilling to acquiesce as quickly as Morwin had. Elissa regarded her with an even stare that seemed to say, _This is the best offer you're going to get. Take it and count your blessings._ "We will discuss it," she finally muttered.

"That's all I ask," said Elissa.

After that, there was little left to say. The delegates exchanged their formal farewells and congratulated each other on a bargain well struck, although Alistair knew from experience that everyone involved would continue hammering out the details for months to come. He wasn't thinking about any of that right now. When he was sure that nobody was watching, he crossed the floor to stand next to Elissa. He placed a hand in the small of her back and whispered in her ear, "I'm not going to believe you the next time you try to tell me you're no good at politics."

She twisted her neck to look at him, and her mouth quirked upward. "Don't be too impressed. It took me three days to find that loophole. Anora would have found it in three minutes."

"I see you've mastered the art of flattery too," said Anora as she approached from Elissa's other side. "I suppose I should be angry with you for denying Ferelden's claim to a mine that probably belongs to us. However, I can't seem to summon the will."

"Why would you be angry when Ferelden got everything it really wanted?" said Elissa. "The people of Edgehall get the means to earn a living, and you and King Alistair get to stop listening to other people arguing and go back to Denerim."

Alistair's mouth went dry. Elissa was right - in a day or two, they would go their separate ways, and he didn't know how long it would be before he and Anora saw her again. He knew that if he didn't take this chance, as frightening as it was, he would regret it for the rest of his life. "Actually, Warden-Commander, there are a few things we need to take care of before we can return to the royal palace. Foremost among them, I believe that you and I and the queen need to finish a conversation that we began several nights ago."

"You're right. We do." Elissa was still smiling, but with a fragility behind it that told him she was just as nervous as he was. "But this time, let's talk in your quarters."


	17. Chapter 17

Elissa sent Dog to the kennels for the night. That was how Alistair knew that she was serious about not being interrupted. Alistair, Anora, and Elissa sat in the creaky, high-backed, upholstered chairs of the monarchs' suite and stared into the fire that a serving girl had laid in the hearth before Anora had kindly but firmly dismissed her for the night. Several minutes had passed since then, and no one had spoken. The crackle of the logs in the fireplace seemed unnaturally loud. Some wine might have broken the ice and eased the start of the conversation, but after what had happened to Anora the last time they gathered, none of them really had the heart to drink it.

Elissa was the first to speak, softly and hesitantly. "I already had the chance to tell you both everything I wanted to say. If you're ready, I'd like to hear from you."

"I think you know how I feel already," said Alistair. "I love you. Both of you. Truly. I can't fathom how that can be, but I know that it's happening. I can't choose between you, and I don't want to live without either of you. And if there were some way, any way, that I didn't have to choose, that I could somehow keep on loving you both without breaking any of my promises - well, I'd do anything in my power to make that happen. And that's why we're here tonight, isn't it? To figure out if we can." He took Anora's hand and looked into her eyes. "This decision is yours as much as anyone else's. Elissa and I have said what we want, as clearly as we can. Now we need to know what _you_ want, my queen."

"If I knew the answer to that, all of this would be much less complicated," said Anora. "You know I love you, Alistair. I love you so much that I was ready to let you sleep with Elissa one more time, back when I thought that was all that you were missing. That would have been easy - all I would have needed to do was ignore it while it was happening and never speak of it again. But you wanted more, and that would mean making her part of my life, in a way I never imagined. It would mean sharing you. And that's very different, isn't it?"

"It is," said Elissa.

Anora turned her gaze to Elissa now. Her voice had gained volume and strength as she spoke. It had all the confidence of a royal pronouncement when she said, "You killed my father. You killed my lover, too." Elissa's brow wrinkled in confusion, and so Anora clarified, "Cauthrien."

"Oh, Maker. I didn't know." Elissa closed her eyes and took a deep breath to collect herself. When she opened them again, she reached out for Anora slowly and deliberately, and rested a hand on Anora's forearm. "I deeply regret the losses you have suffered. Please believe that. But you must know that I can never be sorry for the things I did to save Ferelden."

"I know that, yes. Even if you did apologize, I'm not sure I could ever forgive you."

"I would never expect you to."

"This would be easier if I thought of you as my enemy," said Anora, more quietly now. "I wish I could dismiss you as some irredeemable monster. But I can't. The more that I've gotten to know you, the more I've come to recognize that you've always tried to do what's right. Like Alistair. Like me. I'm starting to understand why you made the decisions you made. I'm starting to understand how much you gave up." She covered Elissa's hand with her own. "What I don't understand is why, despite it all, I am still so attracted to you. So how can I be angry with my husband for loving you, when I might be falling for you, too?"

The room had gone very silent now, as if the night itself were holding its breath. "I know you got my letter," said Elissa. "So you know I feel the same. That's got to make whatever is going to happen easier, right?"

"I'm not sure that anything could," said Anora. "I don't know how any of this is supposed to work, or if it can work, in the long term. I only know that I'll regret it forever if I don't try." Uncertainty stole across her features. "What do we do now? Should I leave so that you and Alistair can-"

"No." Elissa sounded as firm and decisive as any queen. "Maybe someday. But not tonight. Whatever happens this first time, happens with all of us in the room. Unless you disagree?"

"Not in the slightest," said Anora, sounding as surprised by this realization as Alistair was.

Both Anora and Elissa turned to Alistair with the same wordless question on their lips. It felt like knocking on the door to Goldanna's house, or waiting for the gates of Fort Drakon to open, or standing at the top of the hill above Redcliffe and knowing he would have to tell Elissa who he really was: the sense of something set in motion that could no longer be stopped, something that stood to change his life completely in ways that he could never have foreseen. He swallowed hard, remembering what Elissa had said to him in the empty audience chamber. "Anora," he said, "Elissa, it's not that I don't want this. Honestly, this conversation is similar enough to some extremely private fantasies that I'm starting to wonder if a desire demon somehow ambushed me on the way to Edgehall and all of this is going to end with me happily wasting away in a Fade realm somewhere. But Anora, there are things you don't know about us that might change your mind. Elissa and I talked about it, and we agreed that we have to tell you-"

"My king, please, shut up." Before Alistair could make any further protest, Anora closed the distance to him and kissed him more thoroughly than she had since before they left Denerim. When she had finally finished, she said, out of breath, "Do you think I don't already know that the two of you have all kinds of Grey Warden secrets that you haven't shared with me? Maybe they'll make me see all of this differently later on, but maybe they won't. I might have lost you both here in Edgehall, just as you might have lost me. Even with the Blight ended, none of us are truly safe. I intend to make the most of whatever time we have. You can tell me all your secrets another time, but for tonight, I choose to believe that none of them matter. Tonight, what I choose is to fuck both of you senseless."

Alistair couldn't remember ever hearing Anora say anything so vulgar or so blunt, and it struck him utterly speechless. Elissa, however, stood up without hesitation and said, "Bloody hell, you don't need to tell me twice." She seized Anora by the waist and pulled her into another kiss, the kind that she had only ever given to him when she was certain that they were alone. They broke apart long enough for Elissa to say, "Bed," and then stumbled there, never once taking their hands off each other. Alistair trailed behind them, uncertain of whether to watch or participate. Figuring out how to pleasure one woman had been challenging enough, and the etiquette of being in bed with two of them at once was a conundrum he couldn't begin to unravel.

After a while Anora and Elissa began to shed their clothing, shyly at first but then with increasing and astonishing speed. Elissa's fingers slid across Anora's bare skin and her palm cupped Anora's breast, and Anora let out a quiet shivering sigh with which Alistair had become intimately familiar over the years. He must have made a noise of his own without realizing it, because Elissa and Anora stopped kissing and turned toward him, their hands roaming lazily over each other's bodies. "Is there a problem, my king?" said Anora in a low purr. The faint smirk on her lips told him how much she was enjoying the effect her words had on him.

"Uhh," said Alistair, which under the circumstances he thought was fairly eloquent. He felt dazed and lightheaded, as if everything in the room was simultaneously unreal and the most genuine thing he had ever experienced. All of the blood in his body seemed to have drained out of his brain and concentrated itself between his legs. "Should I-"

A lustful, teasing smirk spread across Elissa's face. "Anora, we've forgotten entirely about your husband. What a terrible oversight on our part. We should rectify it at once, don't you think?"

"Yes, I do," said Anora, and pulled him down onto the bed between them.

What happened after that seemed entirely beyond Alistair's control. Elissa and Anora had barely started in on him when he came, abruptly and without warning, in Elissa's hand. His face was burning with embarrassment and he began to mumble an apology as the involuntary motions of his hips subsided, but Elissa cut him off with a swift, small kiss. "Don't worry," she said. "That was flattering, to say the least. And I know you'll be ready again before long. Isn't that right, Anora?" The smile that Elissa and Anora exchanged as they realized how many secrets they already shared was all the encouragement he needed to get out of their way.

So Alistair sat in a chair beside the bed and watched the slow, sensual process of Elissa and Anora discovering each other. At first they cast occasional glances in his direction and touched each other as much for his benefit as for their own, playing up each languid movement and appreciating his reactions. But soon he could see them forgetting his presence, getting lost in each other's bodies. The more he watched, the more he wanted to get involved. He balked, not wanting to intrude, until he remembered Elissa's words - _Whatever happens this first time, happens with all of us in the room_ \- and summoned all of his nerve to slide back over onto the bed and put a hand on each of their thighs. Neither of them flinched - if anything, they leaned into his touch - and so he carried on, stroking and kissing any inch of bare skin he could reach. But it was Anora's fingers that brought Elissa to a shuddering peak, Anora's mouth that swallowed down Elissa's cries of pleasure as Alistair watched in awe.

Breathing heavily, her legs splayed wide, Elissa shifted toward the center of the bed. Her eyes, full of the same unspoken desires he'd denied for so long, met Alistair's in wordless supplication. He looked to Anora. "Yes," she said as she settled into the same chair he had recently vacated. They had been right - he was ready again. He positioned himself between Elissa's trembling thighs and slipped easily into her. They began to move together, awkwardly at first, then with growing ease and comfort as they remembered everything they had spent years trying and failing to forget. When it occurred to him to check on Anora, he found her sitting on the edge of the chair with her lower lip caught between her teeth and her hand working steadily between her own legs. After that he knew he could focus only on Elissa, on her heels in the small of his back, on her moans and the rhythm of her hips, on her sudden whimpering climax that soon led to his own. She kissed him again and murmured, "I love you." He felt Anora's lips on his ear and heard her whisper the same, and knew that every day he had waited and every struggle he had faced had been worth it to arrive at last in this moment.

Elissa's gaze remained fixed on Alistair. He could see that they both had the same idea of what should happen next. They turned their attention to Anora as one and practically dragged her onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. They covered her with kisses and lavished caresses on every inch of her body - their touches shy and fumbling, passionate and perfect. When the moment seemed right, Alistair knelt between Anora's legs and worshiped her with his fingers and tongue as he'd done so many times before, while Elissa played with Anora's breasts and told her about the things she still intended to do to her and to Alistair. He could have stayed like that for the rest of the night, but Anora gently pushed his head away after the first orgasm he gave her and said, "I want you inside me, my king."

This time, it took much longer for him to regain his hardness, but he didn't mind. He could move more slowly now. He could lose himself in all the wonders of Elissa's body that he'd almost forgotten, or take comfort in the well-worn and much-beloved routines he shared with Anora, or simply watch as Elissa and Anora continued to figure each other out. Much later, when he was ready again, he lay back on the bed and let Anora take control. She lowered herself down onto him and rode him, one hand interwoven with his, the other held at her side in a loose fist for Elissa to grind herself against, until all of them were satiated. Afterwards, he looked into their eyes and saw love and desire reflected there in equal parts, and he wondered why he had ever thought that all of this could be anything other than absolutely right.

Later, Alistair woke gradually into the gloomy grey pre-dawn light with Elissa nestled up under one of his arms and Anora embracing him from the other side. The two women were sound asleep. The bed they shared was nowhere near large enough to fit three people, but they were making it work somehow. He looked from his wife to his lover and back again, and felt his heart swell with affection for both of them. He decided that when he got back to Denerim, he would ask the palace groundskeepers to plant an entire garden full of rose bushes, to remind him that love was always growing and expanding, that there would always be enough of it for everyone to share, not just one preserved flower for one long-ago moment. Undoubtedly there were hard times ahead, and many difficult conversations yet to be had, and he couldn't know for certain where any of it might lead. Alistair only knew that what they had was worth fighting for, worth holding on to. He was grateful that for once in his life, he didn't have to sacrifice, didn't have to make yet another difficult choice. He was grateful for the knowledge that borders could change.


End file.
